


Home Sweet Home

by AR_Redux



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Drama, Fluff and Smut, Headcanon, Married Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AR_Redux/pseuds/AR_Redux
Summary: Kristoff has a home the likes of which he could never have imagined.  With a beautiful wife and two children, it’s almost enough to fill the gaps left from the losses of his childhood.  He barely thinks back on the memory of the fire, of the death of his parents, until he meets a mysteriously familiar young woman.Kaija has never felt at home on the coast.  She lives with visions of her lost brother running into the woods, away from the fire, on the night that nearly broke her parents.  The memory never completely fades, but it doesn’t bother her, until she meets the Prince Consort of Arendelle.When the Prince Consort meets the seer, the universe turns upside down.  Apart, they will almost destroy each other.  Perhaps together, they can find home again.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Ryder Nattura/Original Character(s)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the thing that haunts my dreams! Too many tags give too much away, so warnings by chapter. 
> 
> Title inspired by the Mötley Crüe song. Content inspired by a head canon that’s been rattling around for a while now, and that finally exploded, fully grown, into my mind in the middle of a pandemic. For the sake of this story, the Sámi and the Northuldra are separate, but of similar tradition. 
> 
> Fair warning, there are POV changes most chapters for the sake of perspective, and flashbacks. There will be some mentions of perceived death and violence, and some chapters that are NSFW. I'll warn you when we get there. 
> 
> Finally, I leave you with this:
> 
> “The coincidences or little miracles that happen every day of your life are hints that the universe has much bigger plans for you than you ever dreamed of for yourself.” --Deepak Shopra

Anna let her pen come to rest atop her final piece of correspondence for the day. She sighed as she gazed out the window. There was still plenty of daylight, she supposed, and the few remaining tasks could wait. Spring was fully set in, and the sight of leaves on the trees again and longer days made her itch to flee from behind her desk.

“Mattias?” She stretched her arms above her head, wincing as she felt and heard popping in her shoulders. The general appeared as she rolled her neck slowly, more sounds of strain filling her ears. It felt good, though.

“Everything alright, Your Majesty?”

“I’m taking the rest of the afternoon.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not even thirty. I shouldn’t sound like this yet. There’s these briefs on some infrastructure proposals for tomorrow, think you can take a look and catch me up in the morning?”

“Of course.” Mattias took the stack of papers, looking a bit hesitant as he headed slowly for the door.

“What is it, Mattias?” she asked, feeling her lips quirk into a smile.

“It’s good you’re taking the afternoon, ma’am,” he said, giving her his own smile in return. “You work too hard sometimes. And don’t give me that nonsense about proving you’re more than a spare,” he said, waving off her words before she had much of a chance to open her mouth. She huffed indignantly, making him chuckle. “Nobody even thinks about that. You’ve proven you’re more than capable of this job every day since the crown was put on your head, ma’am.”

Anna felt her face soften with affection. Over the six years she had been Queen of Arendelle, Mattias had been her most loyal confidant, after Kristoff. He listened, he advised, and he had taken on the role of trying to offer her a little fatherly advice from time to time, something she cherished. She knew Mattias missed her father almost as much as she did, that he looked on Anna almost as his own. It was an extension of that same love he’d held for her father, something a step beyond duty. He felt more like family than her general.

“I don’t suppose you know where my husband is, do you?”

“Last I saw him, he was headed out to the garden with the children.” Mattias was grinning. “Had one hanging off each arm and was saying they needed to run in circles.”

“That sounds about right.” Anna smiled fondly as she glanced at the clock. It was a little past two, and she knew Mikael and Josefine would be up from their afternoon rests, ready to run wild with their renewed energy. She practically skipped out of the study, nearly falling over Kristoff’s desk as she went. A few papers went tumbling and she almost stopped until Mattias waved her away. 

For Kristoff to have their children clinging to him at this type of day was anything but unusual. Mikael was five, and an exact miniature of his father. His blonde hair quickly grew long and messy, brown eyes peering from below the fringe, always seeming ready for whatever action could come his way. Three year old Josefine had her mother’s red hair, but her eyes were bluer than Anna’s, bearing a stronger resemblance to Elsa’s ice blue gaze than to Anna’s turquoise. She was as energetic as Anna imagined she had once been, and together with her brother, she spent most of her afternoons with her father chasing around, trying to ensure the survival of his offspring. The two were Anna’s proudest achievement to date, but there would have been no doing it without her husband.

Kristoff himself had proven exactly what she had known he would, and so many things she’d never considered. 

He was as perfect a husband as she could have dreamed, and then some. Anna had never expected Kristoff to enjoy politics, but he had become very good at letting her do the talking, only chiming in occasionally, with efficiency. The infrastructure drafts for tomorrow, the same ones Mattias was looking at now, had been mostly drafted by him, after he had corrected the underbalanced funding originally set aside for road and bridge repair with one conversation. His argument that their lucrative ice trade, which he oversaw, didn’t have the means to travel as quickly as would be preferable, that putting more money into infrastructure would bring them more income in the long run, was hard to argue. And what was more, he had made the argument over the top of a tulip glass containing a smoky red beer, rather than the glass of champagne she’d carried, while wearing the suit he claimed to hate more than life itself, leaving the mouths of the two unsuspecting council members hanging open as he had offered his arm to his wife and steered her in the direction of a mountain of sweets.

She had been suspicious for a long time that he would be a good father. Though for years he claimed otherwise, he had always been good around children, and it still wasn’t entirely uncommon that she would find Kristoff in the village with one or two of their tiny subjects hanging from his arms, or slung over his shoulders. He doted on Mikael and Josefine equally, and had been at her side when each of their children had entered the world. She’d been grateful for his presence with Mikael, but she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him while she labored with Josefine.

Josefine’s birth in particular had been especially difficult. In all honesty, it had nearly killed her. It had been months before she’d managed to resume her duties normally, but Kristoff had somehow managed little Mikael, baby Josefine, and helping Mattias keep dozens of balls in the air on behalf of the monarch. An emergency declaration had been signed, the only piece of work Anna had been allowed to do and which had been insisted on by both Mattias and her council, putting her husband in his most dreaded position to date. The duties, discretions, and decisions of the Queen had been temporarily handed over completely to Prince Consort, much to his displeasure, but he had understood the need. Fortunately for Arendelle, Kristoff knew Anna’s mind almost as well as she did, herself. His desk had long since been situated head to head with hers, and he often saw and questioned her about the paperwork that often overflowed from hers onto his. Gerda had always been smug in the evenings to report that anyone who had tried that day to take advantage of her absence was immediately shut down in Kristoff’s gruff, blunt manner.

And he still made her laugh. Sometimes he rolled his eyes at her, and sometimes she did it at him. He still held her hand whenever it was appropriate, kissed her whenever he could, and challenged her when she needed it.

Making her way outside now, she stood and listened for a second or two before she was met with the not-so-distant sounds of shrieking children. She followed the screams and laughter until she found herself coming around a corner to a small, grassy lawn. That was shere she found her husband lying sprawled on his back in the grass, while two laughing children sat on his chest and stomach, peering at his face. One arm was slung over his eyes, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“You’re still breathing,” Mikael said, poking Kristoff’s rib cage as Anna crept closer. The children had been too preoccupied with their father to notice her, and she stayed quiet now. “I know you can hear me.”

Kristoff stayed still. She knew in a moment he would be on his feet, making roaring sounds the children deemed “super scary” and have them screaming and running away, hopefully in her direction, and she shifted quietly to stay out of their line of sight.

“Papa, get up!” Little Josefine bounced on his stomach. “Up, Papa, up!”

Still nothing. Maybe she was wrong, and he had passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Mikael gave Kristoff’s shoulder a little nudge. “Papa?” Another nudge, more silence. “Papa, get up!”

“Papa?” Josefine sounded worried, though Mikael looked suspicious. She climbed down from Kristoff’s stomach and walked up to his head. “Papa?” She lifted the hand of the arm covering his face and then let it drop. It fell limply to his side. “Papa?” Carefully, as if fearful, Josefine lifted his hand again, this time enough to reveal his closed eyes. “Papa?”

Then, “Jojo!” Kristoff was on his feet before Anna could blink, laughing as the two children took off, screaming and laughing, directly toward Anna, who hid herself behind a bush.

“Run, Jojo, run!” Mikael’s voice was high and delighted. “Run away from the scary—”

“Boo!” Anna leapt out, this time making them screech even louder, turning them back to run the other way, directly into a waiting Kristoff. She laughed delightedly as he scooped both children up, hoisting them easily over his shoulder while they shrieked with delight.

She took a moment to take in the picture before her. Kristoff could still be a grump—all one needed to do was to put him in formal attire—but there was no trace of it on his face, now. His smile split his face and his eyes sparkled with joy as he bounced the pair of squirming royal children on his shoulder, taking long strides back to their mother. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers for a chaste kiss, the beard he had started growing after Josefine was born tickling her face. 

“Where do you want these sacks of potatoes, Your Majesty?” he asked, nodding to the children on either shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t really need them,” she teased. “You can toss them in the fjord.”

“No, Papa, don’t listen!” Mikael’s voice was bright with laughter.

“No, Mama, we not potatoes!” Josefine sounded indignant.

“Oh, my goodness, the potatoes talk!” Reaching up for Josefine, Anna grabbed her by the waist. Kristoff let her go, allowing her to tumble into Anna’s arms. “Oh, honey, this isn’t potatoes, this is a princess!”

“Interesting.” Kristoff bent forward, causing Mikael to tumble back into his father’s waiting grasp. “This one’s not potatoes, either!”

“Should we let them go?”

“I’m not sure.” Kristoff sounded thoughtful. “They might run off.”

“Oh, surely not. They’re too small to run very quickly.”

“I’m very fast!” Mikael’s voice carried all the bravado of a five year old. “I’m even faster than you, Mama!”

“Oh, are you?” She smirked. “Maybe. But are you as fast as Josefine?” And she quickly set the three year old down, giving her a small nudge. “Run, Jojo, fast as you can!”

Josefine took off shrieking, Mikael starting to squirm as he tried to escape his father’s grip. “Not fair!”

“Well, if you’re so fast, you should be able to catch up, no problem.” Kristoff grinned and put his son on his feet. The little boy was off in an instant, disappearing between the hedges after his sister.

“We should probably follow them.” Anna’s gaze followed Kristoff as he stepped closer to her, honey brown eyes sparkling for her.

“They’re fine for five minutes,” he insisted, large, warm palms sliding over her hips and pulling her closer. “They’ll be back once one or the other has a tattle. That usually takes about four minutes.”

“So, we don’t have long.”

“Nope.” One of his hands left her hip, moving up to wind long, thick fingers into the hair at the underside of her braid, near the nape of her neck. “Better make the most of it.”

After almost a decade with him, Kristoff’s kisses still made her feel like she was floating, his strong arms the only anchor keeping her from disappearing into the clouds. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she sighed softly into him, feeling the soft brush of his tongue on her bottom lip. She opened for him, soaking in the familiar taste of this wonderful man she had married. When they paused to breathe, he tugged her a little closer, kissing her forehead. “You’re out early today. Not that I'm complaining, of course.”

“I’m exhausted,” Anna sighed, pressing her face into his shoulder. She felt the vibration of his soft laughter under her cheek. “We need a break. A day off.”

“I have to go up the mountain in a few days,” he said, wrapping arms around her waist. “Come with me.” She was giggling again when he found her earlobe, teasing lightly with the brush of his lips. “Write your sister. She can stay with the kids.”

“Tempting.” She propped her chin on his chest, the better to peer up into his face. “Are you going to cook for me?”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you starve.”

“I can cook,” she said, sounding as indignant as Josefine had moments before, and Kristoff laughed. “I can!”

“I’m not sleeping next to you if you eat nothing but eggs for three days.” He placed a kiss on her scrunched up nose. “I love you, but I’d be afraid I’d asphyxiate.”

“Very funny.” She scowled up at him, but she knew he could tell the look held no real bearing. “You see what happens to your body after two kids.”

“Then I don’t know how you explain before we were married—”

She silenced him with her lips, a pleased hum rumbling from somewhere deep inside him.

They stayed that way until they heard voices.

“Now, Princess, I know your father has talked to you about this.”

“He has! She doesn’t listen!”

“Do too!”

Anna grimaced. “It’s amazing how fast they can turn on each other. Poor Kai.”

“Do not! You hit me!”

“Did not!” Kristoff winced as Josefine’s voice hit a high, furious pitch.

“Did too!”

They were louder now, much closer, and Anna reluctantly pulled away from her husband’s warm embrace as the pair came around the corner, holding hands with an amused looking Kai.

“What do we have here?” Kristoff crossed his arms, one eyebrow cocked as he surveyed the two faces little before him, which suddenly looked very guilty. No one spoke. “Did I hear something about hitting?”

At this, Mikael looked furiously at his little sister. “She hit me!”

“And why did she do that?”

Mikael’s eyes fell to his feet. “I don’t know.”

“Nuh-uh!” Now it was Josefine who was hopping up and down in a fit of rage that would be funny if it didn’t happen every other day. “You were mean!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Mikael…” Kristoff’s voice was full of warning, eyes narrowing as he sized up the elder of the pair.

“I wasn’t mean.” But Mikael’s voice didn’t disguise his lie very well.

Kristoff turned his gaze, as he often did, to Kai. “Kai?”

“I believe the Princess requested the Prince not look at her.” Kai was clearly hiding a smile.

“Want to try again?” Kristoff asked, turning back to Mikael.

The little boy scowled at his sister. “She always tells me I’m not allowed to look at her. Why can’t I look if I want?”

“So, you did look.”

Mikael hung his head now. “Yes, sir.”

“And did you _just_ look at her, or…” Kristoff trailed off, and though the little boy couldn’t see it, Anna could when his eyes softened, just a little.

“No, sir.” Mikael scuffed his shoe on the ground. Anna knew that there was nothing more the boy hated than disappointing his father. Mikael _adored_ Kristoff—both children did—and never looked happier than when his father was pleased at something he did or said. The inverse was that his father’s disappointment was his own. “I stuck my tongue out at her.”

“Well,” Kristoff said easily, squatting down to his son’s eye level, “that’s why she smacked you. I’m a little disappointed,” he continued softly, “but I’m proud of you for being honest. Just next time, don’t make me ask Kai.” He chucked the boy’s chin lightly, causing brown eyes to finally look up into matching ones, finding them warmed. “But no dessert. And you,” he added, the sternness returning to his voice as he turned to Josefine, “No excuses. We do _not_ hit each other, understand?”

“Did _not!”_

Another glance to Kai, a small nod, and Kristoff looked down at the red faced and haired of the two children. “Did you hit your brother?”

“No.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Kai said, voice and face a little more stern now, both men and Anna knowing Josefine was a minute away from a meltdown the likes of which only a three year old child could throw. “You mustn't lie to the Prince Consort.” It wasn’t often that Kai became overly formal when it was just the family, and the children both knew he meant business when they heard it. “Should he ask me what happened, I won’t be able to lie. I’ll have to tell him the truth.”

Mikael watched curiously, sidelined now, as Josefine pouted her bottom lip out further. “No.”

“No, what?” Kristoff was standing back up and crossing his arms again. He didn’t fully draw himself up, saving his full height for when they were _really_ in trouble.

“Not listening.”

"Not listening to me or Kai?” The eyebrows were up again. Mikael looked like he was watching the most fascinating form of entertainment that could be put before him.

“Kai.”

“Do _you_ give Kai orders?”

“Yes.” So certain for one so young. Anna knew this was usually around when her eyes would cross if she got into it with her daughter, and it usually led to an impossible argument. Kristoff, however, was much quicker to shut her down.

He just stared. It wasn’t long before Josefine scowled again. “Don’t look at me,” she ordered, hoisting her tiny nose into the air.

Kristoff’s hair was loose today—he had only been behind his desk and with the children—and his eyebrows disappeared into blonde shag. “Excuse me, absolutely not. You may _not_ speak to me like that, or to Kai.” Then there it was, that full height, all broad shoulders and looming figure. Josefine seemed to immediately realize she had gone too far, and began to sniffle. “Nope, not gonna work. Go ahead and make yourself puke, kid, I’ve got all day. The longer you wait to apologize, the more trouble you’re in.”

Another pout.

“Nope.”

Bright blue eyes cast down to the floor with her head, then looked up at her father from beneath long lashes.

“No.”

Then a sigh, and Josefine was crossing her little arms, brow furrowed and eyes down. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

She huffed, waved her arms through the air the same way Anna herself did anytime Kristoff found her in the kitchen at one o’clock in the morning, sneaking chocolate. “For hitting. Sorry.”

“What else?”

"Sorry, Papa.”

“And who else?”

Now the little girl finally looked shame faced. Much like Anna had, their daughter had latched on to Kai at an early age, and it was more often than not that Kai was the one to catch her before she fell off some piece of furniture or other. “Sorry, Kai,” she said, very quietly.

“I forgive you, Princess,” Kai reassured, giving her a small pat on the back.

“Sorry, Kai.” Mikael chimed in again, not seeming to want to be upstaged by his sister.

“I forgive you, too, Your Highness.”

“Papa,” Mikael said, his voice now whiney, and Anna wondered, not for the first time, just what Kristoff had been like when he was very young, before he ran away. “Josefine should get a punishment, too!”

“Ah, yes. That’s true.” Kristoff stroked his beard for a moment, thoughtful. Then he said, “No dessert for either of you. Kai,” Kristoff said, turning his attention back to the older man, who was smiling again. “What _was_ their dessert tonight?”

“Chocolate pudding, I believe, sir.”

Both children pouted at this, but Kristoff grinned. “Perfect. Can you please send their dessert to their mother? And take it upstairs, will you? She can have it for her pre-bed chocolate.”

“Oh, yeah!” Anna clapped her hands, the children looking over at her for the first time since coming back with Kai, eyes widened as they remembered that she was there. Kristoff spent more time with them than she did, but he made sure they knew why. They were very aware of their mother’s importance, not just to them, but to the whole kingdom. If they hated getting in trouble with their father, it was nothing to the embarrassment of having it happen in front of their mother. “Sounds great, honey!” She beamed at her children. “Sorry, guys.”

“You heard the lady,” Kristoff said, jerking his thumb at his wife, who was working now to keep from bursting into laughter. “She’s not kidding. She’s the only person I know who loves chocolate more than you two. _And,”_ he added, looking down his nose, “she’s your mother. And she’s the Queen. So, even I have to listen to her.

“Oh, even you, huh?” Anna gave her husband a side eye as she smiled serenely at Kai. “You only need to bring one spoon. I won’t be sharing.”

“Mean.” Kristoff grinned at her as Kai began to lead the children inside, promising some snacks since they were so hungry from running. She was distracted from this by the something in his eyes that said he had no plans to use a spoon, regardless of her plans.

“Not in front of Kai,” she teased, though Kai had disappeared around the hedge with children. Kristoff's eyes were still gleaming at her as she stared back. “You’re really going to have to work to get me to share with you.”

“Oh, you’ll share with me,” he insisted, his voice unconcerned as he found her neck with his lips. Her head tilted back, mouth falling slightly agape. “You know you will.”

Her face suddenly felt warm and she was aware of the relative quiet around them. There were no longer any voices, no footsteps, only birds chirping away in the warming spring air. They were blessedly alone.

And as much as she wanted to keep kissing him, she was exhausted. 

She tugged him by the hand, dragging him down and around and down a little further, hearing him chuckling behind her, before finding her favorite tree. It had always been her favorite spot, but it took on a closer place in her heart when she met Kristoff. The willow, on a quiet inlet of the fjord, was her favorite place to curl up with a book, or kiss her boyfriend, to take a nap, or kiss her fiancé, to hide from visiting dignitaries, or kiss her husband. Today, it was a napping place as she tugged him down onto the ground beside her, shifting so she was against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her in, making her warm and fuzzy headed.

Then, just before she drifted off, she heard, “Oh, I’m still gonna get that pudding.”

And she had just enough energy to mutter, “Like hell you are,” before she fell asleep.

* * *

Kristoff was unsurprised when he blinked awake, maybe an hour later if his guess at the sun’s movement was correct, to find Anna still curled up, asleep.

Anna was outstanding at delegating. Knowing her own limits, she had given him full control over the ice trade when they'd married, waving it off as she said it was something she really didn’t know much about, and that he was the most qualified to oversee it. With that came other responsibilities, and he was kept busy with it every morning, sometimes well into the afternoon. Still, he was able to finish up earlier than her on most days, and the toll of the heavier workload she carried was often visible. She had always been fond of napping, especially if he was available to be a pillow, and that fondness had turned into near obsession once they’d had children. But early on, they had spent moments like these holed up in their room, making love until it was time to tear themselves away for dinner and make an effort at maintaining some kind of propriety.

Such activities brought Mikael quickly into their midst, and Kristoff had often found himself holding up his sleeping wife with one arm and cradling their son against her breast while he snacked at the same time. Kristoff liked to joke that he was almost as adept at breastfeeding as his wife, and she always conceded.

So now, on lazy afternoons when it was just them, he found himself happily following after her anywhere she chose. Today, it was the willow.

He spent a few long minutes admiring her, the soft pout of her full lips, the curves of her body pressed against his. Motherhood had been kind to Anna’s figure. She was still tiny next to him, still petite by definition, but her hips were more rounded, the swell of her bottom and breasts a bit more pronounced than they had been when he met her. She often bemoaned it, but he assured her through words and actions that all these things were good. She had always been perfect, he assured her, but she just got miraculously more perfect as the years passed.

As much as he hated to rouse her, he knew she would be unhappy if she spent an entire free afternoon napping when she wanted to spend it with her family, so he shifted carefully, brushing softly at her cheek.

“Anna,” he called softly, smiling when her nose scrunched up. “Time to wake up, honey.”

“Mmmm, five more minutes.” Her eyes stayed closed as she tried to burrow back into his side.

“Mika and Jojo will be down here in five more minutes, you know it.” He found the tip of her nose with his lips. “You can wake up gently now, or violently then.”

She groaned, but straightened, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m up,” she said, yawning widely. Her hands fell into her lap as she blinked herself more widely awake. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long one,” she groaned, rolling her neck slowly. “We’ve got that representative coming from Corona first thing.”

“Then dinner.” Kristoff frowned. It would be formal, he already knew. Anna always gave him fair warning when fine dining was called on. But relations with other kingdoms were important, and so he would shove a stick up his ass, make bland conversation, and do his best not to embarrass his wife.

“It won’t be so bad,” she promised. She smiled as she rose, stretching again. “And you know I’ll say thank you afterwards.”

“You always do.” He ran a hand up over a stockinged ankle, trailing up her calf. “Very nicely, too.”

The sound of footsteps met his ears, and he felt his brow furrow when he recognized that they were not those of two young children, but of one adult. Kristoff rose to his feet, brushing off his pants and Anna’s dress, helping straighten her back out so she didn’t look like she had just been napping. She had just smiled gratefully at him when the voice of General Mattias met their ears.

“Your Majesty?” The footsteps came closer. Kristoff stepped from behind the tree just in time to see the man appear, looking harried. “Ah, Your Highness, I was just looking for—”

“I’m right here, Mattias.” Anna stepped to his side, a small frown furrowing her brow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He sighed heavily, holding out a folded piece of paper. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I know you were taking some much needed time to relax, but this can’t be helped.” Anna was quickly scanning, eyes wide, as Mattias explained. “My men assured me the rascals have been rounded up and are to be brought here, but they told me that just before the messengers left, one of the merchants who was shot died of his injuries.”

“And their motive…” She scowled deeply. “Stupid. Intolerable.” Anna shook her head down at the note in her hands. “And the victims? Where are they?”

“Ma’am?”

Anna rolled her eyes, passing the note off to Kristoff as she folded her arms. “Where are the victims? I assume they’ve been offered anything they need.”

“I’m not sure, ma’am.” Mattias stuttered a little over his words. “Only, there wasn't information, and I didn't think to ask. My main concern was the apprehension of the men responsible.”

“Which is all well and good,” Anna replied, Kristoff feeling an angry rolling in his belly when he read over the note’s contents, “but can you please go find out if any accommodations are being given, or if there is anything they need? Other than justice. A place to stay and regroup, legal council, compensation.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mattias was stumbling over his feet, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ll see to it myself, immediately.”

“And Mattias,” she called, giving him a meaningful look when he turned back to her again, “you might remind them that the Prince Consort is Sámi, and that an act like this in _this_ kingdom,” she continued, her voice taking on the steely tone that even Elsa envied, “is beyond simply intolerable. I won’t have murderers in my kingdom. Especially not ones whose actions are based on where someone is from, or what they call themselves.” Kristoff felt goosebumps on his skin and pride in his heart as he watched the Queen of Arendelle give her general orders. “They will be tried, and should they be found guilty, there is only one punishment in this kingdom for that. They will not be exempt or pardoned. Do you understand? You’re to make that clear.”

“And if they admit their guilt?”

“Then that’s for the courts to decide. But my opinion remains the same. Were the victims armed?”

“I doubt it would have mattered, ma’am. They’re coastal Sámi merchants. Probably just had knives. The assailants used rifles.”

“I assume those will have been confiscated?” Anna asked, receiving a nod in reply. “Good. Throw them into the fjord.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mattias left them in silence again. Anna frowned after he was gone. “Was I too harsh?”

“Just harsh enough,” he insisted, feeling his fists curl inward. “Nicer than I would have been.”

Anna reached down and took his clenched hands in hers, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I know,” she murmured. “I wish I'd known you when we were little. Nobody would have messed with you.”

He laughed at this, recognizing the sound as somewhat bitter. “Sorry.” He leaned down, burying his nose in her hair. “I just don’t feel like I have a whole lot of room to complain. It was tough, yeah, but it could have been worse.” He cupped her cheek in one hand, smiling. “And I got you. Best possible outcome, really.”

He thought of the occasional side eyes he still got at larger gatherings, whispers of the man the previous Queen had elevated to appear less common. That hadn't been why Elsa had done it, and they never seemed to consider the actual work involved, but it didn't really matter. They would always see the poor little Sámi boy, trying to scrape out a living.

But he knew Anna couldn't care less. She dealt with her own glances, the whispers in the early days of people wondering how long she would last before her sister returned. But stability remained, the kingdom flourished, and now, it was mostly only the occasional foreigner who wondered at them.

“Come on,” she sighed, tugging at his hand. “Let's go see if there's anything we can do to help.”

It was why he loved her, really


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some prejudice and gun violence (not super detailed). See end notes for more detail.
> 
> Also, several OCs introduced. The first part of this chapter is told from the POV of one of them, which I had to do to get it to fit in sequence. As a result, I’ve gone crazy and am putting up the rest of the chapters in this little section all at once. I hope it all makes sense. This thing exploded into my consciousness, so it makes sense to me, and I haven’t written anything like this in a while, so I just hope I’m not too rusty. Forgive me.

Everyone dreams, her father told her once. But Kaija had dreams that were special.

Sometimes, they were just that—dreams. The musings of her unconscious mind, nonsensical and sometimes sensational. Sometimes, though, they were different, returning in flashes moments later, maybe days. Kaija had the dreams that all the women in her father's family had.

She had visions.

They came in her sleep, often mixed with the regular dreams. Nineteen years had taught her to recognize them. Once recognized, there then came the hard choice of keeping it to herself, or telling someone. More often than not, she stayed silent. There was no stopping the forces of nature, and those that were truly changeable were the ones that were harder to see.

Kaija’s visions were not as violent or clear as her grandmother’s had apparently been. Her father never said how they drove her to her end, but she had become so consumed that she had died relatively young. Kaija could never find the purpose in being encumbered as she was, could never put her parents through it, so she learned not to dwell.

Her father had long since taught her not to become lost in trying to decipher their meaning, that what would come would come with time. It had been that way with many women, and so it was with her. There was little to be done and much to be lost by chasing them. She could meet her demise, as her grandmother had, by becoming their slave.

Or, she could live with the moment and live up to her name where she could, to be a means of salvation. The name that had been kept by every rare daughter born into their predominantly male family.

The name that she knew she would pass on to her own children, regardless of who their father was.

“It is our name, Kaija,” her father had once explained when she’d questioned what felt like yet another odd family tradition. “My mother was the only daughter born in three generations, and she carried our burden. My forefathers did not choose our name, you know. The story says it was a woman, one who could see and who saved many lives with her gifts. She was their salvation, so that is what they called her. My mother could never reconcile herself to be that.” He had patted her hand as he smiled sadly. “I will not let that happen to you, my child.”

Sometimes, the visions were small and easy to ignore. A rainstorm, a particular road, a new face. Sometimes, they were things that sent her running for the door. A child running out in front of a horse, a boat rocking dangerously on the sea, a landslide.

Often, she came to her realizations too late for any kind of salvation. The child was already outside and several hundred yards away by the time she made it out, the boat was already out in what was to be a storm that would sink it.

The landslide, though, she had managed to keep her father away from. He never knew it was her vision that saved him. Once it was over, she had simply let it go, as she had done so many times before, and it was a relief.

Sometimes, though, there was the one that held no vision of the future, the one her father said he’d never heard the likes of, because it wasn’t the future. It had taken her parents a few times to understand it was actually the past, that there was nothing to be done about it but watch it happen.

It was brief, but terrifying.

She could hear her mother screaming as if in the most excruciating pain. She heard her father, calling out to his wife, desperation and fear clear in his voice. And every time, she saw a little boy with blonde hair, just like hers, running away from the destruction behind him. None would ever lay eyes on the boy again, except for Kaija, in her dreams.

With all of this, Kaija had never received any on who to marry, and she was already nineteen. She wanted as normal of a life as she could get, hoped to finally find something close to a place that felt like home. So she settled for a local boy she’d known for many years, the one who seemed brave enough to propose to Rikkar’s daughter.

Only then did she see his future, once it had tied on to hers.

Kaija recalled the vision about Jágo two days before the trip, the image so vivid that she couldn't take the chance on doing nothing. She had declared her intentions to accompany him, her excuse to him being that she wished to spend more time at his side before they married. He had smiled, kissed her cheek, said he was looking forward to it while her stomach tied itself up in knots.

Jágo didn't know that his betrothed was a seer. To be fair, most people didn’t. These were not the people her parents had been born into, and her parents had always been a little slow to trust anyone. Jágo wasn't superstitious, would probably write it off as old wive’s tales, some odd family legend. Seers were as imaginary as witches, after all.

But witches were real, and Kaija got glimpses of the future from time to time, little urges to be in certain places at certain times.

Jágo was a good man, though, despite his ignorance. He was kind to her, bringing little trinkets back when he went with the others down to the town to sell fish for a bit of extra money. He treated her no differently than if her family were of the coastal ways, something that had always left them a little on the edges, though they were nevertheless accepted. He was respectful to her father and mother, unafraid of Rikkar’s standoffish manners. He was easy going, willing to let her keep her name with no questions asked.

She wasn't sure she loved him when she agreed to marry him, but she thought someday, she could learn. She couldn’t just let him die without at least trying to help.

Kaija could easily lie to her parents, but she felt they deserved to know about her vision of Jágo. Her mother fretted at the prospect of her leaving. “What good would you do?” she had asked, hoisting a pot of water over the fire to start it boiling. “You would be in more danger there.”

“She'll be fine, Johánná,” her father had said, waving dismissively as he pulled on his boots. “Kaija can take care of herself.”

Her mother's eyes had narrowed at this. Kaija knew her mother hated those words. Johánná had never liked the prospect of Kaija being anywhere but home—it was part of why she had never encouraged Kaija to marry.

It was one of very few things her parents argued over.

They kept themselves mostly to themselves, but anyone with eyes could see how her parents adored each other. They were complete opposites in almost every way. Rikkar was tall, built like a stone wall and strong as an ox, dark hair and dark complexion and piercing blue eyes, relatively quiet with those he did not know well or trust, which was most everyone but their family, and his oldest friend, Dure. He was soft for his wife, though, and his daughter, with warm arms that embraced willingly and held tightly.

They dwarfed his wife, who was so tiny that she hardly cleared his shoulder. Where Rikkar tended to be graceless, if not completely clumsy, his wife was light on her feet, dancing from place to place with a bright smile on her face that warmed her honey brown eyes. Where he was broad, she was lithe and soft. She was not so dark as her husband, and a few freckles dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her delicate nose. When it was free from her hat, Johánná’s hair was long and blonde, quickly becoming wild and windblown if she neglected to tie it back. 

They loved each other fiercely, and on the rare occasions that they argued, they did so with passion. And when they fought over the subject of her marriage, on nights when they thought she was sound asleep, her father always managed to win with, “Keeping Kaija here for the rest of her life, making her a spinster with no husband or children, will  _ not _ bring back our son. She wants to be married, wants to have children. Will you keep her from that out of fear?” 

It was one of the only things her mother feared, losing Kaija.

Her mother had finally agreed to let her go on the trip after one such argument, and Jágo had smiled and promised Johánná to take good care of her.

They packed no weapons when they left. Jágo had actually laughed at her suggestion of taking more than a practical knife, the one he took everywhere. He had said taking a gun was overreacting, would put them at a disadvantage, and had not packed one. Guns were heavy and prone to go off accidentally.

He had said the trip would go smoothly, that it always had.

He was, of course, dreadfully wrong.

By midday on the second day, only a few miles from the edge of town, two men with guns and an agenda had killed the poor, kind man she had been engaged to. There was nothing to be done. Kaija’s visions often came with holes, and she didn't recognize the moment until the men were suddenly appearing before their party in the road.

What was the point of any of it? She wondered it vaguely, watching Jágo fall to the ground as someone else pushed her down and out of the way. It wasn’t the first time she had wondered this, wishing sometimes that her visions were violent and forceful. It wasn't so much that she wished to drown, so much as she wished to have more than only her toes in the water.

She felt the rolling in her stomach, a strong urge to become ill, but forced herself to remember what her father always said as she crouched out of sight.

“You can only do what  _ you _ can do, Kaija. You are not your grandmother, or your mother, or me. You are Kaija. No two people, no two  _ seers, _ are exactly the same. You must not let it consume you.”

And she had done what she could do, which was nothing. Now, the only thing to do was not to get killed, herself.

The shooting had no sooner started than it stopped. To the surprise and alarm of the remaining party, there had been soldiers not far off, and they came racing up the road as soon as they heard the ruckus. There was immediate fear in the party, and Kaija felt her stomach lurch. She had seen nothing about soldiers. 

They were surveying for some royal road project, they explained, and they offered their service. Kaija felt shock as they took the assailants into custody, tying them up and tossing them into the back of a wagon. There was no concern on the part of the soldiers about the origins of their party, no prejudice of any sort. They asked many questions, seeming more interested in the opinions of the men in her company, and Kaija gratefully slipped into the background of the conversation. She watched the exchanges in awe.

She wondered, briefly, if this was the reason for her vision. Kaija had long since stopped believing in the fantasy of coincidence. Perhaps she was meant to be here, to see this. It gave her some tiny comfort.

They were nearly ready to return to their village, the soldiers satisfied in their questioning, when another soldier arrived. This man seemed more distinguished. He was older, with silver in his dark hair, his uniform much more decorated, and he called them to a halt. Kaija felt her stomach lurch again. Her parents didn't trust soldiers—no one in their tiny village did—and she feared their luck was out. Surely, they would now be arrested. Maybe shot for no reason, too. 

_ Why? _

Then he was loudly announcing that the Queen of Arendelle had been informed of the situation, and conveyed an offer to aid them in any way he could. The younger of the two assailants paled further when the senior soldier said, “I'm sure you understand, she has a low tolerance for this sort of thing. She asked that you be specifically reminded of the heritage of our Prince Consort.”

“The Prince Consort,” one of the assailants sneered, the older of the pair, “is a disgusting, common, no good—”

“Her Majesty, the Queen, also wanted to remind you that the punishment for murder is death, should you be found guilty. She will not show leniency.”

The sneer deepened. “That  _ woman  _ is unfit for leadership. They both deserve that bastard’s fate. Bitch would have served us better if she'd been allowed to freeze to death.” He grinned at the wrapped corpse laying gently in a wagon. “The whole country would be better off if the lot of them wound up like that piece of shit—”

“So then, it's treason.” The elder soldier seemed unrattled, though his dark eyes flashed. “A much more serious offense. Take them to the castle, to the dungeon.” He smiled blandly at the assailants. “At Her Majesty's request, of course. If it were left to the Prince Consort, I'm sure you'd be at the bottom of the fjord by now.”

Kaija watched the men in her party whispering nervously as the soldier came closer.

The tug of sleep came suddenly, and she felt herself tumbling from the edge of the cart, unaware at first what was happening.

_ The soldier was laughing as he lifted a little tow-haired boy into the air, slowed in his walk by a little girl attached to his leg. _

_ “I believe this is yours, sir.” And he passed the boy off to a tall, broad man, hair just like the little boy’s, still laughing. _

_ The man grinned so widely it almost looked painful. He was dressed in pointed shoes and leather and fur. He looked nothing like anyone a high ranking soldier would call “sir,” so who was he? _

_ And the little boy… _

Kaija woke with a start, eyelids fluttering. There were strong, warm hands lifting under her elbows. “Easy there,” the soldier’s voice was saying, his tone warm and comforting. “You alright, miss? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Kaija couldn’t concentrate to speak. She barely heard him, barely heard one of the men in her party telling the soldier that she would have been the wife of the man who now lay dead in the other wagon. She needed rest, the voice said, had been through a trauma at the hands of their assailants.

That little boy…

The other vision, the one she had seen for as long as she could remember—the flashback—played alongside in her mind.

A little tow-haired boy, the brother she had never known, racing toward the woods.

Another little-tow haired little boy, identical to the other, laughing as he clung to the finely tailored pants of the soldier. But this little boy, though he looked exactly the same, seemed a part of this soldier’s life now. How was that possible?

There were lots of little blonde boys all over the world… 

Kaija had visions. She did  _ not _ believe in coincidence.

“So she is to stay in town,” one of the men, Dure, was saying to the soldier, “and we tell the girl’s parents what? That we abandoned one of our own, left her to fend for herself among soldiers? Arendellean or not, you  _ are _ soldiers. Your kind have taught us not to trust you.”

Kaija realized that it had been Dure speaking all along, that Dure had been the one to push her roughly into the back of the wagon. It had been Dure who had saved her life.

“I will go, Dure, it is fine.” Dure had known Kaija since she was born, had known her brother, and he stared at her as she spoke. She wondered if he knew. Dure had known her father most of their lives, had known her grandmother. The cautious look in his eyes said he had known all along. “This man says they are to be tried. Perhaps I can tell what we've seen.” She implored him with her eyes.

There was that nagging feeling in her gut that she needed to go, the one she could never fully explain, the one that didn’t  _ always _ come, but sometimes was much too strong to ignore.

Something about that little boy…

“You won't go alone. Rikkar would never forgive me if anything happened to you.” Dure’s tone reminded her of her father—gruff and seemingly unconcerned, hiding the emotion underneath a tough exterior. It made Kaija smile. “I will stay with you until we return home.”

“Miss?” The soldier was still looking at Kaija. She could see the kindness there.

“Dure has known my father since he lived in the mountains.” Kaija smiled at the old man, then at the soldier. “He will keep me safe from you, soldier.”

The soldier seemed to hear the laughter in her voice. “Well then, that's that. And what is your name, miss?”

“She is Kaija.” Dure took a step in front of her, seeming to feel inclined to protect her, though as her father had said so many times, Kaija could easily take care of herself.

After some rearranging, Kaija and Dure climbed onto the wagon still loaded with fish, Kaija casting a sad glance after Jágo. Dure patted her shoulder briefly before urging their horse onward, toward Arendelle.

They rode in silence behind the soldiers for a while before Dure murmured softly, “What did you see, child?” So, he knew. 

Kaija glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Enough to feel we can trust him.”

“Have you…” Dure seemed to be careful in the consideration of his words. “I have never seen you taken that way, Kaija.”

“What happened?”

“Your eyes rolled and you were coming off the wagon before I knew what was happening.” He shuddered. “It reminded me of another woman. Her visions were violent, too.” Kaija knew she was speaking of her grandmother, but he changed the subject. “Have you been to Arendelle before?”

“Once,” she said. “I was very young. But it made Papa sad—not that he'd ever admit it,” she added, “so we never went back.”

“Reminds him of your brother.” Dure shook his head. “He wasn't the only one lost in that fire. Bad thing. Drove your father from the mountains, from his work, but I understood why he had to leave.”

“I know your wife died, also,” Kaija said softly.

“I miss her daily,” Dure said. “But she would understand. It felt like bad luck to stay, as if nothing had happened.”

“Papa took me there once,” she recalled, and Dure turned his head at this, “to the place it happened.” This was apparently news to Dure. “Said the last time he saw him, my brother was trapped, that there was no way to escape.”

“Your mother never believed it.” Dure turned his face forward, but his eyes stayed on her. “Said your vision proved otherwise.”

Kaija blinked rapidly. Dure was well informed. Better, it seemed, on this topic than even Kaija. It was never discussed in front of her. “And Papa?”

“Rikkar is stubborn. Always has been. Sees and believes only what he wants. But Johánná holds on. We never found a body, and you say he ran into the woods.”

“But how would a five year old boy survive in the woods?”

Dure laughed at this, and Kaija wondered how, in nineteen years, she had never thought to ask Dure questions she could never have asked her parents. Dure was tough, as all mountain Sámi were, but was soft to her in the way an uncle would be. But even Dure, who had known her father longest, would never discuss this topic in front of his old friend.

She realized now he would probably give her any answers he had. Her parents were days away, and she had long since felt she was old enough for some answers.

It still didn’t explain why Jágo had to die.

“You never met your brother, so you couldn’t understand,” Dure chuckled, “but if any child could live alone in the woods, it would be that boy. Not that it makes it likely.”

It dawned on Kaija that, while the topic of her dead brother was too painful for her parents, it may not be for Dure. “What was he like?”

“Looks like your mother, thank Freyja, but for his poor nose like your father's,” he laughed, “and acted just like your father. Stubborn as a mule, he was, never one to stay still unless he was asleep. Much like another young girl I know. But she was blessed with her mother's nose.”

“I’ll have you know my papa is the handsomest man who walks the earth.” Kaija tossed her blonde braid over her shoulder so that it rested against her back. Dure cackled at this. “No one is so tall or strong as my papa.”

“I’ll give you that,” Dure managed. “He would always win in a fight, Rikkar.”

“But he would never hurt a fly.”

“Exactly.”

It was quiet for a while before Dure asked, “You’ve had that one for so long, and no other?”

“You mean the vision of my brother.” Kaija squinted up the road as he nodded at her side. The soldiers were talking, their words indistinguishable at this distance. She could no longer see the two men who had killed her betrothed. She thought for a moment before realizing that Dure probably knew much more than he had ever let on. If her father trusted him, so would Kaija. “If you asked me yesterday, I would say no.”

Dure nodded again, slowly and thoughtfully this time. “You never met your grandmother. As fine a woman as ever lived, she was. She saw things, too. But they came at her with violence. Times were different then.  _ People,” _ he said, nodding at the soldiers, “were different. But she never saw the past.”

Kaija wondered what else he knew about her grandmother’s visions, but she needed other answers, first. “It’s only the one vision,” she reminded him. “And it’s only every few months or so.”

“And always the same, your father says.”

“Yes.”

“And today?”

“Today…” She sighed heavily as she thought of the soldier, the Sámi man, and the little boy. “I don’t even know if it  _ was  _ him, or how that would even be possible. In the past, I only saw the back of his head, a little of the side of his face. His ears, mostly.” She smiled. They stuck out the same way hers did. “But this little boy had  _ exactly _ the same hair, the same ears.” She began to speak hurriedly, speaking to Dure as if he were her father in her desperation. “And he looked like  _ me, _ Dure. He had the same eyes as me, as Mama. It was a little blonde boy, just like the other vision. But he was with another child, and the soldier, and a man.”

Kaija had never had this strong of a recall of a vision before, nor had one ever come to her in wakefulness. Suddenly, things began to materialize that she had missed before. Tiny details, little things in the gray in the soldier’s beard and hair, the familiarity of the stranger’s smile.

“What man?” Dure’s voice was urgent—the city was in view now. “Think, child, what did you see?”

“I saw…” Her eyes drifted closed, and she heard the lazy, dreamlike quality of her voice as if she were listening to a different person. “I saw a little girl. Red hair, blue eyes, I think. The soldier was there.”

“Describe the soldier.”

“He looked the same. It could have been today.”

“Go on.”

“A little girl, the soldier, the little boy with the blonde hair, and the Sámi man.”

There was a long pause. Kaija almost felt like dozing off when Dure finally asked, “How do you know he was Sámi?”

_ How did she?  _ “He was dressed for the mountains,” she said, still sounding odd to herself. It felt odd, too, but reliving these things always did, especially now that it was so quick. “Leather tunic and furs, Papa wears.”

“What else did you see? What did he look like?”

Kaija frowned, sinking back into herself. “Very tall. Broad. He has a beard. Blonde hair, like the little boy.” Now that she focused on it, the little boy shared all the features of the man. “His eyes are brown, and he smiles like…” Her eyes snapped open with a gasp.

Dure was staring her in confusion. 

He smiled and laughed  _ exactly _ like her mother. He looked like her mother, eyes crinkling the same way, the same sheer delight in his eyes as he wrapped the little boy in arms that looked strong. In fact, his build looked like… 

How was that even  _ possible? _

“Kaija?”

“Dure,” she said, her voice sounding shaky now, “you’re not going to be able to stay in Arendelle.”

“And why, child, is that?”

“You have to go home. You have to bring my parents here.”

“Kaija, Rikkar will throw me to the sea if I return home without his only child.”

“No, you have to bring them here.” The words were flying from her lips before she could stop to process them. Shock was seeping from her spine, making her fingers clench into fists at her side. “They must come, and I have to talk to the soldier.”

“Kaija, you’re making no sense!”

“The soldier knows him,” she said, gazing in newfound awe at the man before her. "I don't know how I know, I do."

There were no coincidences. Everything she had ever seen, everything her parents had taught her, reminded her of that. This was no coincidence. This was fate. This was her gift.

Not much surprised Kaija anymore, but this had her thrown. 

“Kaija, you need to tell me something, girl, or else how can I—”

“Kristoff,” she whispered, grasping desperately at Dure’s arm, watching as the old man’s eyes widened. “That soldier knows my brother. I can’t tell you how or why or  _ anything _ that will make sense,” she said, aware that they were getting closer to town and their proximity to the soldiers closer, as well, “and there is no time. But I know it in my bones, Dure.”

Perhaps, she thought for a moment, she had said too much. Maybe she had finally gone mad. Maybe this was what she got for wishing for more. Or else it was just a coincidence, but Kaija had _ never _ believed in coincidences. 

No Bjorgman woman had  _ ever _ believed in coincidences.

* * *

Even after a rushed dinner, after fixing back his hair and changing into something a little less comfortable in case he needed to do something official—like throw the bastards over castle walls, just for fun—Kristoff wanted nothing to do with the men being taken below. Mattias had returned, grim faced, saying there were concerns of treason, and that the murder charge was now secondary. 

“It’s a matter of law that they get a trial for murder,” Mattias said, shaking his head, "but not treason. That is ultimately Your Majesty’s decision, with the approval of the council. And voicing support for the death of the Crown  _ is _ treason, ma’am.”

And just like that, with a swift kiss, Anna disappeared into her study with Mattias and two council members who had been summoned to her aid, while he rushed off to make himself look somewhat presentable, for her benefit more than his. He knew her struggle as a woman, and they had found that often merely his presence made men fall into line a bit more quickly. Anna had often joked that he was a fantastic trophy husband, and he would tease her back that she had only married him for his body.

Still, the joke was ultimately on everyone else. He may tower over everyone in the room, but he kept out of politics in rather spectacular fashion. He instead utilized the stare he had mastered, one that reminded men that his wife was in charge of the room, not the men that surrounded her. Kristoff wasn’t there to agree with them and put his wife in her place, he was there to remind them that her gender meant nothing in the grand scheme of their affairs. She was the Queen, and they were all her subjects.

And with treason on the table, it guaranteed that it would not be a quiet night.

Not wanting to alarm the children by disappearing, Kristoff checked on them after their dinner in the nursery. Their maid had just cleared away their meals when he entered, whispering that she would be needed to put the children to bed tonight, after all. She smiled and agreed unquestioningly.

“But you’re gonna be gone soon,” Mikael had said, hanging his head. “You’ll be gone three whole days.”

Kristoff sighed, kneeling down in front of his son. “Mika.” The boy looked up, eyes sad and a little wounded. Kristoff felt the stab in his heart that almost made him stay. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in this situation, but he needed to do something. “I promise to come tell you goodnight before I go to sleep, I promise.”

“Even if it’s late?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it’s really late?”

Kristoff smiled. “Yes, Mika.”

“Even if it’s really,  _ really _ late?”

“Even if it’s so late, it’s early.” He tousled his son’s hair. “Now, go play with your sister.”

Josefine made her way over to Kristoff, her little head cocked to one side as she surveyed him in a way that was almost unsettling for a three year old. Then she said, “It’s okay, Papa. I love you.”

His heart was a puddle at this little girl’s feet.

He kissed them both goodnight, thanked the maid again, then raced back to their study.

He found Anna at her desk, head in her hands as she stared down at a piece of paper. Mattias was at her side, hands clasped firmly behind him, back straight as a rod. Two of Anna’s advisors sat before her, looking sympathetic. Both began to rise on his entry, but he waved them down, focused on Anna as one of them began speaking.

“It’s the law, ma’am. If they were only being charged with a murder, there would, of course, be a hearing. But in cases of treason,” Hansen, the taller of the two men, said, sounding as if he were continuing a conversation, “there need not be a trial, if the evidence is strong enough, and we believe it is, in this case. I assure you, your decision will have our approval. They can be executed without delay, madame, with your word, alone. If you are worried about the validity of the case of treason in this instance, I can assure Your Majesty that voicing the sincere desire for the death of a monarch does constitute treason. A court would find the same, I assure you. They are guilty of treason against the Crown.”

“But they do  _ not _ sound as if they are both equally unremorseful.” Anna’s eyes narrowed at something she was reading, and Kristoff stepped around the men to stand at her other shoulder, opposite Mattias, reading the report in front of her. Kristoff supposed it wasn’t the first time she had said that tonight. "You said the younger one seemed scared. Did he confess?" She was looking at Mattias now.

The general nodded. Kristoff knew his body language to be saying that he wanted desperately for these men to understand that, as well. "To aiding his brother, yes. But to the charges of treason, no. Says he’s loyal to the Queen." He shook his head. “He was quiet the whole way back. The other one had quite a few things to say before we got here, though.”

Anna glanced over her shoulder toward him. With Hansen and Olsen in the room, she was slow to ask, but her eyes let him read her mind.  _ What do I do? _

"So, just to be clear," Kristoff said, glancing at Hansen and Olsen, "she can sign this and they're both dead, or send it to the court to decide if they're both guilty of the same crimes?" He shrugged, playing dumb. "Sorry if you explained that before I got here."

"You certainly could, Majesty," Olsen said, his voice wheezy, as usual. "If you have any concerns, I would advise it. It is the fairest thing to do. But you are the Queen. Your decision _ is _ the law."

Kristoff hoped Anna could read his eyes as well as he could read hers.

_ Fuck ‘em. Do what you want to do. _

“I would like to speak with the witnesses,” she finally said.

“Absolutely not!” spluttered Olsen. When Anna arched an eyebrow, Olsen turned a funny shade of puce as he realized he had just refused his Queen. “That is to say—only, it would be most unusual—could be unsafe for the monarch—”

“Well, someone else needs to talk to them.” Anna was on her feet now, arms crossed, and the pair of older men bumbled to their feet with her. “Clearly, we aren’t going to all be on the same page until we get another round of questioning with someone else. The older brother is clearly guilty, I won’t argue that,” Anna said, waving her hand, and from what he could read over his shoulder, she was clearly correct. “We’ll verify it, anyway. I’m more concerned about this younger brother.”

“I’ll go.” Kristoff glanced first at Anna, seeing relief, then Mattias, seeing approval, maybe a little pride, even. “You can come with me, General.” He put on his most charming smile, the one Anna said demonstrated that he’d secretly been gearing up for a career as a diplomat his entire life, and said, “Perhaps one or both of you fine gentlemen would care to join us? Then we can better understand the Queen’s concerns.”

Anna was fighting a smile as Hansen and Olsen quickly rushed to their feet, bowing as Mattias escorted them into the hallway. The proud twinkle in her eye was impossible to conceal, though, and as soon as the door was closed, her hands were reaching for his.

“Thank you.” Anna’s fingers curled around his as she stared gratefully up at him. Her blue eyes looked tired. Then she winced. “Well, this will be fun to explain to the envoy from Corona.”

“Every kingdom has problems, Anna,” he reminded her. “It’s how you handle it that determines your value.”

“I was so sure,” she said, shaking her head, sighing down at the deposition in front of her. “But Mattias seems to think the younger brother wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. Keeps mentioning in here something about a debt.” Her brow furrowed. “I want to know more about them both, really, but especially the younger one.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Kristoff said, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. “I promise.”

“I love you.” She pulled his hand closer to her, pressing her lips to each of his fingers in turn. “I know this was never your life plan—”

“Anna,” he warned.

“—but you’re  _ so _ good at it!” A wide smile filled her face.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grimaced as he adjusted the belt at his waist, wishing for the loser sash he still preferred. “Still too tight in the crotch.”

“Honey,” she responded, not missing a beat, her smile turning coy, “ _ everything _ is too tight in the crotch for you. Now, get going. I need to kiss my babies.”

“Not true,” he argued, leaning down to give her a kiss. He lingered for a moment, knowing he was expected to follow quickly after Mattias, but not quite ready to leave her just yet. When he finally pulled away, her lips drawing into a pout, he winked at her. “No pants are ideal.”

Just before his hand touched the doorknob, she called his name. He paused, turning, while she casually tossed out, “Don’t forget to remind Kai, I still want my pudding.”

Mattias raised his eyebrows when Kristoff emerged, still chuckling, a few minutes later, but said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written a while back, and the irony of publishing this now isn’t lost on me. There wasn’t a lot of love for indiginous people back then. I thought about changing it, but that didn’t feel right either. I ended up changing nothing. I could go on for days about reliving history, but we'll leave it here. Don’t worry, she comes out on top in the end, I can tell you that much. This is Disney, folks. We like the best possible, perfect world outcome. Be real. Accept it. Breath it in.
> 
> Also, I made up the laws and procedure. In theory, Arendelle is so small it would probably just be the monarchy and a council making most of the decisions. I could be wrong. It’s not a thing that lasts past these couple of chapters. Suffice it to say, the punishment is period appropriate, and we will not be witnessing it. I don't have it in me to write that. 
> 
> On to the next!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! This is where the smut lives! You were warned.
> 
> Also, some more strong language about minorities and the people who love them in this chapter.

The castle dungeons in Arendelle were far from dirty or disgusting, even if they were rather utilitarian. Kristoff knew Elsa had once been chained down here, though, knew there were still chains in the floors and walls for the restraint of prisoners. It wasn’t a place anyone would want to be, as it generally implied some great misdeed.

On the way down, Mattias filled Kristoff in on details he had missed. The Sandberg brothers were two of five children, the oldest and youngest, they had so far surmised. The family had a history of bigoted behaviors. The father had once been arrested, then pardoned by King Runard, for murdering a Sámi family that had wandered onto his land by mistake. The father’s opinion wasn’t popular in Arendelle, so he had done his best to impress his views on his children in his outcasted state.

The oldest son was bitter like his father, resentful of the current monarchy, especially resentful of the Prince Consort. The youngest seemed much less vehemently opposed, repeating over and over that he hadn’t been aware what his brother was doing, saying he’d been told they were simply collecting a debt. He seemed oblivious to the fact that the debt was simply being alive.

They were jailed separately, the older brother in heavy chains, the younger pacing nervously in his own cell. Kristoff clenched his teeth and balled his fists as he passed the younger for the older brother.

_ One thing he remembered so clearly, as if it were yesterday, was that it hadn’t been an accident. _

_ Screams mixed with laughter as the side of the lavvu collapsed in. Kristoff could hear his parents, hear his mother’s shriek. Blinded by flames, he stumbled from his bedroll, feeling his way out. He could still hear her, screaming, shrieking for him to get out, to run. _

_ “Jo, no!” His father’s voice was just audible through the cacophony of noises around him. “Stop!” _

_ “Kristoff, run!” _

_ Weakened by the extreme heat, his side of the lavvu gave way for him to crawl under. Wails of terror and bellows of drunken laughter filled the air—men on horses with torches. _

_ Kristoff ran. _

He  _ hated _ that memory more than anything.

“Sir?” Mattias rested a hand on his shoulder. He had frozen outside the door, one hand moved to unlock it.

“This one,” Kristoff muttered, not quite recognizing his own voice, dripping with hatred as it was, “deserves to die. A life for a life, Mattias, and for threatening my wife and my children.”

“I know. You as well, sir, if you recall.” Mattias spoke very low, inaudible to the two men with them. “Can you go in?” The tone in the general’s voice implied he understood courage was not the question, but Kristoff’s ability for restraint. 

“No.” Kristoff’s fists clenched, and he closed his eyes, thinking of the two children upstairs, worlds away from where he stood now, and tried to breathe. He had never killed anyone, wasn’t a violent person by nature, and he didn’t want to start now. This piece of shit deserved it, but not because Kristoff felt like losing control. It wasn’t his decision. “But I can hear just fine from here,” he added, glaring toward the door and the prisoner inside, raising his voice so it could be heard clearly.

The man inside spit.

“Delightful gentleman,” Mattias said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Mr. Hansen, Mr. Olsen, if you will follow me, please.”

Kristoff forced himself to focus on his breathing while Mattias questioned again the man inside. The older Sandberg brother held nothing back as he spat hatred for the monarchs, going after Kristoff with particular hostility. 

“She’s a fucking whore,” the older brother spat, Kristoff feeling his blunt nails digging into his palms. “Only a whore would marry dirt. The minute she let that gold digging Laplander between her legs, she proved what a whore she is. And their fucking children are no better than bastards.” There was a bitter laugh, and Kristoff could feel the tension in the cell through the door. “Kill them all, I say.”

Mattias stepped back into the hall after this, jaw tight. Kristoff knew the insult to the royal family, especially the Crown Prince and Princess Royale, was one Mattias would have taken very personally. “Any other questions for you, sir?” He sounded like he was ready to take the man to the gallows himself.

Steeling himself, Kristoff finally stepped into the cell. The prisoner inside was chained to the floor, sitting irreverently on the bed as his Prince Consort entered. He spit again, but it didn’t reach Kristoff’s boots.

“Your brother,” he ground out. “You would have him strung up next to you?”

Finally, at this, the man’s face shifted. His expression wasn’t concerned so much as it no longer carried the fury and hostility.

“Petter is an idiot,” he said, his voice flat. “Too young to know how to ask questions. Were it me, I would have asked how much. Would have wanted half.” He laughed. “Would have done it for free.”

Kristoff turned, walking back out. Mattias followed with an angry looking Hansen and a shocked and spluttering Olsen.

“I’ll speak to the younger one myself,” Kristoff said as they walked back down a few cells to where the younger brother was being held. 

“Would you like him restrained, sir?” Mattias asked. Olsen coughed nervously.

“Do I need to worry about it?”

“He’s pretty scrawny, I’m sure you could take him.”

“Then, no.”

Olsen was spluttering again, so Kristoff let Mattias go first.

The younger brother had also moved to sit on his bed, but unlike his older brother, he rose to his feet as soon as Kristoff entered the room, bending forward at the waist in a low bow. Kristoff’s normal inclination was to wave off such formalities, but in this case, it told him more to allow it than to dismiss it. 

There wasn’t much to size up. Mattias hadn’t lied, the kid was scrawny. And he  _ was  _ a kid, still just young enough that even Kristoff could call him that.

“You’re Petter,” he said, and the boy nodded quickly, eyes staring into the floor in terror. “How old are you?”

“I’m almost sixteen, sir,” he stuttered out.

_ Almost _ sixteen. A fucking kid. He thought again of his own children, and his stomach rolled a little. “And that’s your brother?”

“I promise, sir, I didn’t know.” Tears filled the boy’s eyes, dripping down onto the cold stone floor. “He said it was a debt, sir, and our family doesn’t have a whole lot, and I just thought…” His bottom lip quivered. “He said we were taking the rifles for protection, sir, I promise! He thinks I don’t know anything, sir, but I do, I swear! I know the difference between right and wrong and I—” His voice stuttered with sobs. “I did what he told me. He said they weren’t going to pay and to start shooting, and I did, and I’m so sorry, sir. I took two shots and they both missed because my hands were shaking and I couldn’t—” He trailed off, crumpling to the floor, sobs choking out from his throat. "Please, sir, I'm begging you to believe me."

Kristoff shifted uncomfortably. He never understood how Anna could handle groveling, and this was the worst kind. This was a child begging for his life.

“Come on,” he muttered, reaching down and hauling the boy to his feet, guiding as much as pusing him toward the bed. “Sit down.”

Petter was shaking his head now. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry.”

Kristoff crossed his arms and sighed while the boy tried to pull himself together. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, “Do you understand what kind of man your brother is, Petter?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy replied, his voice quiet.

“You understand your brother made threats against the Queen.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you make the same threats?”

“No, sir!” Petter was back on his feet, but Kristoff rolled his eyes and pushed him back down.

“Sit, Petter. Why wouldn’t you make those threats?”

“I have nothing against the Queen, sir,” the boy said, and his eyes matched the honesty in his voice. “Our family has done better the last few years, sir, but my father would never admit it’s because of the Queen. And I think she’s a good person, no matter what he says.”

It was enough for now.

They made their way back upstairs, Hansen and Olsen waving at them as they nearly staggered from the shock of their evening into a parlor for a moment to sit. Kristoff stayed in the hall with Mattias.

“You think he’s being honest?”

“He’s stuck to the exact same story twice, sir.” Mattias sighed. “Still, it doesn’t send a great message if we just let him off while we hang his brother.” The older man raised an eyebrow. “I assume you’re still in favor of execution for treason. He made his opinions pretty clear on that.” Mattias lowered his voice now, “And my men overhead them on the way back. Said the older one was glad he was going to be taken back to Arendelle. Maybe he could sneak out and get his hands on the Consort.” He nodded toward where another soldier stood in stony silence between the two cells. “Tried to convince him to let him go, said he would get rid of all four of you once and for all.”

His blood boiled, but Kristoff still winced at Mattias’s matter of fact tone as much as the look of hatred that was so out of place on the older man’s face. “So, the younger one. What do you suggest?”

“Conscription?” Mattias shrugged. “With pay, of course. He seems like it might actually benefit him.”

“The pay alone,” Kristoff mused, nodding. “Not a bad idea.”

“And we’ll keep a very close eye on him, sir.”

“I would hope so.” Kristoff sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly now that the worst was over. “Where did we end up putting the witnesses?”

“The library, sir. I believe they’ve been served a meal and made comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” he muttered, unclipping the collar of his shirt. “I guarantee, they’re not.”

The library door was closed, guarded by a soldier who saluted Kristoff as he approached, a glint in his eyes. Kristoff knew the soldiers were aware of how much he hated it, and so of course Mattias had ensured that the treatment of the men toward their Consort was the same as to his Queen.

The soldier gave a perfunctory knock before starting to open the door. Kristoff held up a hand to stop him, and the man looked confused. Stepping closer, Kristoff knocked again, hearing a soft, “Come in?” from inside.

Seeing the pair of them sent Kristoff back to his childhood. The smell of the hides of their clothing took him back to the smells of burning wood and the taste of dried meats and the smell of baking bread. He vaguely recalled Mattias saying it was a two day journey to their village, and he could see it in the tired set of their faces. The man was older than Mattias, his hair more gray than what appeared to be some lingering dark color. He worried his hat in his hands as he surveyed Kristoff, eyes not entirely trusting.

The girl, though, threw him off entirely.

She was  _ so _ familiar. There was a softness in her face that he thought he recognized, in the set of her eyes. She was several inches taller than Anna, not at his eye level, but closer, and a long, blonde braid swung past her waist. She was gazing at him, almost as if she were confused.

“His Royal Highness,” the soldier now announced, “Prince—”

“That’s enough,” he said quickly, pushing the door closed as soon as Mattias was through it, glaring while the general chuckled.

“Sorry, sir, it’s just how they’re trained.” Mattias was smirking.

“Yeah, by you.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kristoff could see the girl’s eyes darting back and forth between him and Mattias. Why was she so familiar? He was positive he’d never met her.

“You’re the Prince Consort, then,” the man said, his voice a little bitter.

“Dure.” The girl’s voice was warning. She made a new face, like she wasn’t entirely sure of herself, and began to shift into some odd cross between a bow and a curtsey.

“Stop, stop, stop.” Taking a few steps quickly toward them, Kristoff shook his head. “You don’t need to do that. Really.” She still looked confused. “I mean, nobody ever used to, so…” He trailed off at the girl’s raised eyebrows.

She cocked her head at him, giving him a once over. “You don’t  _ look _ Sámi.” So, her deference only went so far. It made him smile.

“Oh, you should have seen him last week.” Mattias was clearly more comfortable in the presence of the two witnesses than he was with either of the brothers downstairs. “Even better, you should have  _ smelled _ him. You’d never know he married a Queen.”

But Kristoff was smiling with her apparent lack of deference. “It’s a long story,” he defended himself. Then he sighed again and said, “I’m sorry for your loss, Dure, and…” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t know her name.

“Kaija,” the old man said. “She is Kaija, daughter of—”

“No one in particular,” the girl interrupted, shooting Dure a look.

Dure didn’t finish his sentence, instead saying, “She was to marry Jágo.” His voice took on a darker tone. “The man who was killed.”

“I’m sorry,” Kristoff said again, his voice softening at the look on the girl’s face. She’d gone suddenly hollow and hard.

“We have a few more questions,” Mattias said, taking a few steps closer to the pair. “The two men who attacked your party—do you recall anything specific in their behavior? Their actions?”

“It was the older one who shot Jágo,” Dure said, and Kristoff watched as the girl became silent and withdrawn. Her face was almost dreamy now, but not in any way that told Kristoff she was happy. “The one with hatred in his eyes.”

“And the other one?”

“I doubt that child even knew why he was there.” Dure shook his head, the expression sad. “Thought he was going to be sick, at one point.”

“Kaija?” Mattias made his voice softer. “Do you remember?”

But Kaija was fighting eyelids that looked suddenly heavier than a mountain. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she swooned against Dure, who caught her, shock clear in his eyes.

Dure insisted, upon a quick recovery of his expression, that the girl needed to sit, and they maneuvered her onto the couch, Dure kneeling in front of her. His voice was warm as he spoke softly to her. “Kaija? Kaija, you need to come back now, child. Wake up.”

Kaija drew in a sharp breath as her eyes snapped open. They darted from Kristoff to Mattias to Dure, finally focusing on the old man. There was a long, silent exchange between the two before Dure spoke again. Kaija seemed to have become mute. “It’s late. The girl needs rest, she’s had a trying day.”

“Of course. This conversation can wait until tomorrow.” Kristoff took a step back as his eyes met Kaija’s. They were brown and haunted as they stared at him, almost like she was trying to decipher something, herself. “We can set you up here, or at the inn in the village, if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“The inn.” Kaija found her voice again, but it was rough.

“I’ll escort them myself, sir,” Mattias said. “You inform the Queen. I’m sure she’ll want to know they’re safe.”

There were awkward bows again and Kristoff exited the library while they followed, the girl very subdued, the old man confused, and Mattias looking a little critical. He wondered if the general thought the girl weak, and he muttered his question in the soldier’s ear as he passed.

“Second time today she’s swooned like that,” Mattias said. “She needs a night’s rest, for sure. Poor girl.” The general shook his head, then gave Kristoff a sidelong glance. “So do you, for that matter.”

“I’ve got the weirdest feeling like I know that girl,” he mused, watching as the pair trailed ahead of them, wrapped up in their own hushed whispers. “She’s so familiar…” At this, Mattias chortled. “What?”

“Well, if she were a man, she’d probably look like you.” Mattias grinned. “That’s what I thought when I got a good look at her in the same room as you, anyway. Strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

Kristoff wasn’t sure he believed too much in coincidence. His life seemed to indicate fate took a much larger role, but he shrugged it off. “I guess.”

It bothered him all the way upstairs. He barely remembered to ask Kai about the pudding, and was reassured that it had been taken upstairs a short while ago, once the Queen had retired for the evening.

His family was the very distraction he needed as he took the stairs two at a time, making his way first to the children’s bedrooms, as promised. Neither was roused as he tucked blankets, gently brushed back hair, and dropped kisses onto unsuspecting brows. He lingered over Mikael, watching as the boy’s chest rose and fell with each breath. 

He didn’t startle when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Anna’s fingers slid up into the hair at the back of his skull, scratching lightly with her nails along his scalp. Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, “Come to bed. You’ll wake him up, then we’ll be here all night.”

Grinning, Kristoff reached for his wife’s free hand, leading her back out into the hall and toward their own room. Neither spoke as they walked, fingers laced together between them, down the long corridor that led to the Queen’s chambers. She was already dressed for bed, wrapped in a dressing gown of deep midnight blue, embroidered with lighter shade that matched her eyes.

Once they were finally inside, Kristoff heaved a sigh of relief as he immediately shucked his jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of the couch as he began to work on the myriad of buttons. Anna chuckled at his eagerness and asked, “How did it go?”

“Pretty sure the younger one had no idea what was actually going on. Mattias wants him sentenced to conscription. The family is poor, and a soldier’s wage would be more than he’s earning now. The older one, though,” he continued, shaking his head as he pried his arms free of the tight vest, “pretty much what we thought. I have to say, it’s been a while since anybody actually spit at me.”

“He  _ spit _ at you?” Anna’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“Probably would have spit at you, too, if you’d been there, judging by his opinions.” Free from the vest, he pulled the belt free before working on his shirt. “Piece of shit.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “So what did he call me?”

“He called you a whore, our kids are basically bastards, you know, the usual.” He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “And according to Mattias, he actually had some idea of a plan to try to kill me, get at you and the kids.”

A bitter laugh escaped Anna’s lips, and he hated that the scum in their dungeon made her sound that way. “I wish him the best of luck trying.”

“Well, he’d have to get through you first. You can get pretty feisty.”

Anna knelt demurely on the bed, looking thoughtful now. “What about the witnesses? Did you talk to them? Are they alright?”

“The girl’s fiancé was the man who was shot.” More relief as another item of clothing was tossed uselessly aside. He could see Anna’s eyes, darkening as he bared his chest, sitting down to remove the boots. “She mostly seemed to be taking it alright. She fainted, though, in the library. Mattias said it was the second time.”

“She’s in shock,” Anna said, rolling her eyes. “Of course she fainted.”

“It was weird, though,” Kristoff mused, recalling the uncannily familiar girl. Mattias had been right. She looked like  _ him,  _ now that he really thought about it. Her hair was the same shade of blonde, eyes the same shape and color, eyebrows the same dark, dirty blonde. The same arch.

It was just a coincidence.

“Honey?” Anna had risen and was now standing in front of him, looking concerned. He wondered how long he’d been holding onto his foot, motionless. Anna reached for his hands, pulling them away, working his boots off, herself. “Are you okay?”

“There’s just something weird about the whole thing, and I can’t put my finger on it.” He scowled, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Mattias thinks it’s all a coincidence.”

“What’s a coincidence?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, sitting back up and trying not to look too sour as his wife took care of him. Stockings were pulled free, and Kristoff let his arms wrap around her shoulders as she crawled forward, pushing his knees apart so she could settle between them, her arms around his neck. “You’ll see for yourself when you meet her.”

“I hate surprises when I know they’re coming, you know that.”

“Sorry.” Kissing the tip of her nose, he smirked at her scowl. “Can’t be helped. I’ll sound crazy otherwise.”

At this, Anna sat back on her heels, cocking her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

Sighing heavily, Kristoff scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. “Just trust me. Tomorrow.” When he opened his eyes again, there was concern in Anna’s. “It was a shitty night. I promise to tell you tomorrow. I just don’t want to think about it that much right now.”

Anna’s fingers reached up to run through his hair, further mussing it. “You sure you’re okay, honey?”

“I just…” He groaned, knowing she wasn’t likely to completely let it slide. “I hate those people,” he finally grumbled, not meeting her sympathetic gaze. “It’s bad enough they took away my parents. But if anybody  _ ever _ laid a hand on you, if anything happened to you, or Mika or Jojo, I…” He stopped himself. He wasn’t a violent person, nor had he ever been. Using his strength to achieve his means was never his way, but he could imagine choking the life out of the piece of garbage downstairs if he ever came within eyesight of his wife or children. It was a frightening prospect.

“I know,” she murmured, and he finally looked up. Her expression was somewhere between understanding and her own brand of quiet fury. “I hate that you had to hear those things tonight. But,” she continued, rising up on her knees, “I love you for doing it. You take such good care of us.” She reached for one of his hands, pulling it close and pressing her lips to his knuckles. “I love you for being an amazing husband and the perfect father. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Just be here,” he said softly, feeling himself relax a little when she gave him a small smile, and wishing more than anything for her arms, her warmth, the smell of her hair and her soft skin and her arousal. “Make me think about happy things.”

“That,” she said, grinning as she ran her hands up his thighs, “I can do.”

He watched as her slender fingers unbuttoned the tight trousers, lifting himself slightly so she could pull them away. She grinned when he moaned with relief. “You weren’t kidding when you said these were tight in the crotch.”

It was so unexpected that he burst out laughing, but it was short lived. The fingers that had removed his trousers were now claiming their prize, wrapping around his growing erection and stroking softly. The laughter turned to moans of pleasure as Anna worked him for an all too brief moment between her slender fingers.

Then she stopped, and he almost choked.

His eyes opened again—he wasn’t sure when they had closed—to find her kneeling straight backed on the floor in front of him. Her hands were back to running over his thighs, and just before he felt ready to explode, she said again softly, “You take such good care of us. Now, let me take care of you.” She pressed soft lips to the inside of one of his knees. “What do you need?”

“Anna—”

“Kristoff,” she interrupted, clearly not in the mood for making decisions, “what do  _ you _ need?” She rose to her feet again, moving to straddle his hips. “Tell me what you want, honey.”

He realized she wore nothing under the robe. Her thighs pressed against his, heat emanating from the apex of her thighs. Had she been planning this all night?

“I want this off,” he managed to growl out, tugging at the robe.

She grinned, hopping down. “Your wish,” she said, undoing the tie. The silk fell aside, revealing the pale, freckled skin that he loved so much, and she shrugged it away from her shoulders. 

Six years of marriage had mercifully done nothing to immunize him to the vision of her body, backlit now by the fire, looking every bit the Queen she was, and every bit his wife, his Anna. She was smiling as she asked, “What else?”

“I want…” His tongue felt like it was suddenly huge, too much for words.

She lowered herself back to the floor, crawling toward him on her hands and knees, voice far too innocent for the words that left her lips as she made her way back between his legs. “Do you want me to suck your cock?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

There wasn’t much time to think before her mouth was on him, lips wrapped around his cock as he gripped the couch cushion tightly. A feeling of relief seeped into his veins as he made himself sag slightly against the couch, breathing deeply through his nose. She pulled back so that only the tip remained in her mouth while she worked her tongue over him gently.

“That’s it, honey,” she murmured, the soft breeze of her voice making him shudder. “Just relax.” One of her hands left his cock for his thighs, sliding briefly up his stomach to gently rake rounded nails gently over his chest. His fingers found their way into her silky stands as her hand applied just a bit of pressure, guiding him until he was resting fully back against the couch. He let his head fall back, heard the gentle hum of her approval as much as he felt it, and gave himself completely over to the pleasures of her mouth.

He couldn't find it within himself to be embarrassed of the whimpers that escaped his lips as she sucked him greedily, her big blue eyes watching him through her lashes. She treated him as if he were made of something sugary and delightful that she couldn’t get enough of. Her warm little tongue was dancing circles when he was enveloped by her mouth, feeling his tip touching the back of his throat. When she released him to catch her breath, she kept at him, flattening her tongue to lap him slowly from base to tip. When he was able to keep his eyes open, he always found hers watching him carefully. She kept the contact while she lightly scratched a nail over his perineum, and he couldn’t keep them open anymore when she smirked around him at the odd sound that left his lips.

If he didn’t stop her, she would take him to completion before he was ready.

And he didn’t want to release into her mouth. Not tonight, anyway. More than anything, he wanted to bury himself in her folds to live and die inside her.

“Come here,” he mumbled, reaching down under her arms to guide her up into his lap. She released him with a final long suck and a wet pop, grinning like a contented kitten, hair wild around her demurely smiling face. She landed astride his thighs, still smiling when he pulled her in, chest to chest, to press his lips to hers. 

With the taste of himself on her tongue, he found himself suddenly desperate to return the favor. She was light in his arms as he rose, lowering her to the fur rug in front of the fire, lips never leaving hers. He was never tired of kissing her, and even when his lips finally tore from hers, he still kept them on her body.

A nipple pebbled under his hand as he trailed to her breast, finding the sensitive peak with his lips, wrapping around and toying at it with his tongue. Her back arched, putting her bosom further on display and making it easy to wrap his free hand around under her, keeping her elevated.

“Kristoff.” Her voice was a high whine, and he grinned.

“Hmm?” He gazed up at her face, finding blue eyes pleading at him, gaze heavy with lust.

“This was supposed to be about you.” Her voice was breathless.

“This is about me,” he replied, making his way down her stomach and between her legs. “I happen to enjoy this.” She was shaking under him when he pressed his lips to the skin just above the patch of soft, light red hair between her legs. “And do you really want me to stop?” He kissed the crease of her leg, chuckling darkly when she whimpered. “That’s what I thought.”

He slid still lower, peppering kisses over her skin, breathing in the scent of her as he made his way to her wet and quivering sex. She was already so swollen, and the scent of her musk overwhelmed his senses in the most beautiful way. The first taste of her had both of them moaning, and he let his tongue lap at her slit. The taste of her nectar on his tongue was familiar, one he’d known for years and never tired of, just as he would never tire of the beautiful sounds that would leave her mouth when he feasted on her.

From the top of his peripheral vision, he could see her sitting halfway up, one hand propping her up against the warm fur, the other going to his hair. Working his tongue against her nub, he slid two fingers into her, loving how her back arched and the reverence in the way she said his name. He drew circles and triangles and the letters of their names against her, taking special care to curl his fingers just so to find the soft place buried far inside that would make her go wild.

She never lasted long under his lips, and tonight was no exception. It wasn’t long until she was crying out, coming under his tongue and around his fingers. He moaned against her, loving the rush of her juices over his fingers.

She was tugging on his hair again, pulling him back to her for a series of hot, messy kisses, the kind that came when she could barely control herself.

“ _ Anna.”  _ His hands were tangled in her hair as he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, feeling her thighs instantly shift to mount him. His lips had left hers, trailing a well traveled path over a series of freckles, pulling the skin of her shoulder sharply between his teeth and causing her to yelp and roll her hips deliciously against him. 

“Tell me,” she whispered. “I want you to tell me.”

He fought the instinct to ask what she wanted, knowing sometimes what she wanted was exactly this—for him to tell her what to do. The Queen tired of making decisions all day. He considered her request for a moment, mind flashing with the possibilities of all the ways he could take her.

Or watch her. She was  _ so _ beautiful and amazing to watch.

“I need you, baby.” There was barely breath in his lungs—she stole it with her kiss. “Ride me,” he rasped, and in no time, she was straightening up and reaching down to wrap her hand around him again, this time for guidance, and he watched as she lowered herself slowly onto him. “I need to be in you, Anna.”

The sensation of Anna was like sinking into a warm bath when his muscles ached from a trip. Preferably, a bath that included a wet, naked wife. His whole body instantly felt the rush of relief and pleasure that was unlike anything else, eyes fluttering closed with that same relief. There was nothing else, nobody else, that mattered in that moment. There was only Anna, only them, only the warm fire and soft furs under his back while her body caressed against his front. 

He would realize later that the vision of his wife, hands braced against her chest as they moved together, was exactly what he had needed to remove any ill thoughts from his mind. He only thought about her, about her ethereal beauty in the firelight, skin bathed in the warm orange glow and hair looking wilder than usual.

He watched as her mouth fell open in a soundless cry, her head falling back as she lowered herself onto him, much less cautiously than he normally did. Her thighs slid over his as she widened her legs with the motion, knees resting for the moment several inches from his sides. The motion settled him in deep, and his eyes rolled in his skull as she settled herself. Her nails dug lightly into his chest as he felt himself rub softly against her sweet spot, her head lolling forward as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Her brow was furrowed now, lashes fluttering against her cheekbones as she tried to keep them open.

Kristoff reached up, cupping her face in his broad hands and stroking his thumbs across her cheeks. Her eyes finally opened again, and there was only a thin ring of blue around her wide pupils. He moved his hands to rest at her waist as she began to roll her hips above him. Her breasts danced for him, bathed in the golden glow as their mutual pleasure mounted, and he wanted them.

She had said whatever he wanted.

Carefully, he sat himself up with one hand while the other slid to support her back. After six years, Anna knew what he wanted, and she leaned back, hands braced just above his slightly bent knees, while she continued to ride him with particular intention. Her head had fallen back and her long, loose hair tickled his thighs. Her mouth hung open again for her to cry out and gasp for air, and though he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew they would by now have rolled back, probably closed. The arching of her back jutted her breasts outward, and he immediately took advantage.

His lips latched around one nipple, suckling lightly and flicking his tongue over her sensitive tip. A sharp cry escaped her, and he felt the quivering of the muscles wrapped around his cock, the shake of her thighs over his, that meant she was close.

“God,  _ please.”  _ Her head had tilted forward, lolling about her shoulders now as she found his eyes with hers, gazing through the lashes of heavy lids. “I’m so close, honey, I…”

He abandoned her breast, leaning up over her to whisper in her ear, “Let go, baby. Can you do that for me?” Then, knowing exactly what the words would do to her, he added, “Touch yourself, Anna.” Then, he returned to her breast, finding the right angle to run his flattened tongue over her jutting, dampened nipple and still be able to watch her fingers make their way to where they were joined.

Watching Anna make herself come was one of his favorite pastimes. Before they had married, they had experimented together, never fully making love, but doing almost everything else. He could still recall the blush in her cheeks, the same one she had now, the first time she had pulled up her skirts, showing him her sweet center and how she liked to touch herself there. It had never gotten old, had gotten him through many lonely nights in mountain camps, alone in his tent. 

Her hips stuttered to a stop as she ground down onto him, shuddering to completion for the second time that night. He talked her though it, telling her how beautiful she looked, how amazing she felt, how badly he wanted to fuck her into the floor.

She had said whatever he wanted, and by the way her pupils blew wide at the words, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind in the least.

Still giddy from her orgasm, Anna shrieked with laughter, not bothering to make any attempt at being quiet despite the likely presence of at least a maid in the hall, when he tipped her back again. He caught her in his arms before lowering her to the warm fur rug in front of the fire, grinning at the expression of sheer delight on her face. She landed softly on her back while he hovered above her, only a few inches between their bodies, pulling him closer and kissing her again, long and hot and full of promise.

Then the devious creature he had married whispered, “Didn't you say something about fucking me into the floor?”

And God, he thought when he slipped inside her for the second time, it was  _ hot. _ Anna, them together, the fire, the fur that further warmed her, thus warming him, all seeped into his veins, came out in sweat that dripped onto her as he held himself up on his elbows, hips thrusting up sharply into her willing and welcoming body.

She was sweating, too. Her bangs were damp and he reached up to brush them away from her face, managing to catch a glimpse of how she glistened as they came together, his head hanging down as he watched his cock sliding in and out of her.

Still, heat seeking creature that Anna was, she seemed to crave more. She pulled, collapsing him on top of her. A grunt left him with the shift in position, but he stayed close, glued together with her as he rutted his hips against hers.

“God, yes,” she whispered, her head falling back against the rug as she gasped for breath. “Oh, Kristoff,  _ please. _ Just like that, please don't stop,  _ please…"  _

She was asking  _ so  _ nicely, and Christ if she wasn’t beautiful, spread open wide for him on the floor of the bedroom, words tumbling uncontrollably from her swollen lips.

Pressing her further into the rug, almost at the limit of where he knew her to be capable of going, he pushed himself against her, dragging his pelvis across hers with each thrust. Her legs slid down until they were wrapped around his thighs. It was almost animalistic, the feeling of grinding her into the floor, but she was clearly enjoying it. She offered him her lips and he took them gladly. She was making her sounds  _ into _ him now, and this was absolutely his favorite.

Sighs, moans, his name, obscenities enough to shock any courtier who could have heard them, all into his mouth, over his tongue, down his spine and into his cock as he fucked her.

She was close again, he knew, and he wasn’t far behind. Her legs were like a vice around him, one of her hands in his hair, the other digging her nails into his ass. His legs shook as he gasped for air, feeling his end creep closer.

“Come with me, Kristoff.” Anna’s words were a stuttered whisper. “Come inside me. I want to feel you.” She cried out, the sound echoing in the large room, before she said, “I love you so much, I’m going to, Kristoff, _ please...”  _

Combined with the heat from the fire and the sensation of her letting go for the third time that night, it was enough. His hips shook and he called her name against her throat as he came, spilling into her while she shuddered and moaned beneath him. Coming inside his wife, filling her up with his essence and knowing that he was the only bastard lucky enough on this earth to have that privilege, sent waves of much needed relief over him, and he needed to kiss her again.

For a minute, he stayed above her, shallow thrusts finishing both of them off. Then, when he felt himself about to completely collapse all his weight onto her, he managed to roll onto his back at her side, both of them still panting.

It was a while before Anna started to giggle again. She was playing with her hair when he turned his head to meet her bright, almost feverish looking eyes.

“We forgot about the pudding,” she managed to spit out, curling into his side with laughter.

He somehow managed to find his footing, to lift her easily into his arms, carrying her the length of the bedroom before tossing her unceremoniously onto the bed and reaching for her snack.

“Forget about the spoon,” she said, teasing in her voice again.

* * *

The owners of the inn seemed kind enough. Did they need any clothes, anything to eat, even just a small snack, yes, yes, anything for the guests of their Queen and Prince Consort. They offered Kaija and Dure a warm drink before bed, and the pair sat by the fire while Dure tried to pry anything out of her.

“Kaija, when have you ever had so many visions?”

“Kaija, why did you not speak to the soldier about your brother?”

“Kaija, what did you see?”

She kept the answers to herself as she stared into the flickering flames.

No, she had never had so many visions in one day. She had even been overtaken once in the library, before the Prince Consort and the general appeared, by the flashback again. Her answer was contemplative silence.

How  _ could  _ she speak to the soldier, especially after she saw what she did? Her answer to this was a noncommittal shrug.

She saw…

To this, she gave no reply other than to continue staring into the fire. 

Kaija had received the flashback about her brother for years, since she’d been a small child. It had been one of the earlier dreams, and yet it remained the only vision of the past she’d ever had. It was also, as such, the only vision she had over and over. It came less often with age, but stronger when it did. Not even her father knew how hard it sometimes came. She’d awoken a few years back on her face in the dirt, no idea how she got there, and visions of the little boy with the blonde mop running away dancing behind her eyes.

Was it just a dream?

The vision that had overtaken her in the extravagant room they called a library told her that it wasn’t.

_ The man—the Prince Consort—was sitting at a desk. His back was to her, but she somehow knew it was him. But his hair was significantly mussed, hanging freer around his ears. The sunlight streaming in caught his hair, and she could see a few strands of grey. _

_ He sat across from where a woman sat writing. She was beautiful, red hair swept back into a braid, though a few stubborn strands had freed themselves, bright blue eyes the color of a spring sky. She was listening to something with a small frown on her face, but Kaija could not hear the words…  _

_ Then the woman was laughing, balling up a piece of paper and throwing it at the Prince’s face. The Queen, she realized.  _

_ “You need to sleep, Kristoff,” she said, her voice warm and fond, but edged with concern... _

Kaija’s heart raced. It was no dream. She’d met him, stood right in front of him as she’d tried to place his familiar features in his most unfamiliar dress and styling, only to have them violently clarified. 

It was the same Kristoff. If she had been unsure on meeting him, it was crystal clear to her now.

Her father had always insisted that Kaija came out looking almost exactly like her brother. The insistence continued as she grew, looking more like her mother, but with her mother’s nose. Kristoff had her father’s nose, she could now see, as well as his height. Though he’d made a clear attempt to tame it, his blonde hair seemed to lean toward the wild side, as hers would be if it weren’t wrangled into a braid, just like her mother’s. The way his lips pulled into a smile over his strong jaw was as familiar as the backs of her own hands. Even the way he shifted his weight… 

And he was as tall as her father, built like her father. Well over six feet, he would tower over her mother, Kaija was sure. His hands were huge, shoulders broad and strong, like her father’s. And though Kaija was perhaps not so big, she was certainly taller than most women she met, and stronger, too.

But what was she supposed to do? None of her visions gave her that answer.

She could not easily march back in tomorrow and say he was her long lost brother. At the very least, she would be mocked as some kind of opportunist. At worst, she could be thrown in an asylum.

Somehow, he had survived the woods, even though he had been so young. Somehow, he had managed to go on with his life with no parents. 

Somehow, her long lost brother had married the Queen of Arendelle. He was the Prince Consort of Arendelle. With no proof other than the visions in her head, there was no way he would believe her.

Would he?

Would  _ they?  _ She hadn’t met the Queen, but the woman sounded lovely. That still didn’t mean she would instantly accept Kaija’s stories, crazy as they would sound.

The only thing she could do was to go home to her parents, to try to find the next step forward. That was ultimately her only explanation to Dure.

The old man finally gave up, sighing as he relaxed into his chair.

“So, we stay here tonight,” Dure said softly, and she nodded. “Very well. Get sleep, child,” he murmured, clapping her softly on the shoulder. “You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

She certainly would. She was at least certain of that much


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because binging isn’t just for Netflix, here’s one more.
> 
> Corona carries no plot in this story, it’s just there for kicks. Ironically, it is also what allowed me to do this much in this amount of time. Get it? That’s a little Disney dad joke for ya.
> 
> I like beer. I like amber beer. I like lager beer. I like bock beer. I like fruity beer. I make Kristoff drink beer. 

The morning dawned overcast, an omen of the day to come, Anna would feel, once it was all said and done.

They were awakened early by Kai’s knock on the door, Anna sighing heavily as she shoved herself up to sitting. They had fallen asleep late. The pudding had led to more love making, then to a bath, then drying off, which led to Kristoff’s rediscovery of the sensitive spot behind her knee. They had finally crawled into bed naked after midnight, and it hadn’t been long until light had filtered the room. 

Now, the covers fell away, leaving her exposed from the waist up as she rubbed her eyes, calling to Kai to bring the breakfast tray.

“And lots of coffee,” Kristoff called after him, and there was a soft chuckle from outside. “Black as hell, if possible.”

”Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

Kristoff mumbled his many complaints from her side, but sat up in bed, barely covered as he swung his long legs over the side and rubbed his face to wake himself. He let out a long, low sound, somewhere between a growl, a groan, and a grumble before letting his hands fall to his sides. “Fuck,” he mumbled, voice rough from sleep and misuse the night before. “We have that envoy this morning, we have those victims staying in the village.” He sighed, rolling his head to one side to look at her. “What do you need me to do?”

Crawling across the bed to his side, she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. One of his hands came up lazily to trace a path from her elbow to her wrist and back. “Go with Mattias. And dress casual. I’m willing to bet they’ll be a lot more comfortable with you there. Nothing I can do about Mattias, but oh, well. I can explain to the envoy, and then we’ll see you at dinner.”

Now he was wrapping around her, making her laugh as he tackled her back to the pillows. “You are the most beautiful woman who ever walked the earth,” he groaned, his lips attacking her neck and collarbone with sloppy kisses. “I owe you.’’

“I don't know about that, but I’ll take it.” She kissed him lazily for a minute before he pulled away, so often the more sensible one at this time of day, having always been the earlier riser of the two of them.

“Later,” he promised, grinning. She watched with unabashed approval as he swung his long legs over the side of the bed, rising from the sheets and crossing to splash cold water on his face over the basin. She admired his backside, a perfect specimen of firm, rounded muscles as he made his way toward the dressing room.

The Queen of Arendelle had heard enough over the years to know that most women were not so fortunate as to have a husband with Kristoff's physique. He wasn’t that chiseled, narrow and classically handsome gentleman that seemed so popular, but, as an old countess from a neighboring kingdom had once said, the kind of man built for physical labor of  _ all _ sorts, with rugged good looks and surely with the hardware to match.

She hadn’t married him for that, of course. She had married him for love and because they both damn well wanted to. His lack of any high status had never bothered Anna. If anything, it had helped her to see that love didn’t know barriers. She didn’t want to marry some chiseled boy prince. She had found herself a man, strong and kind and sometimes more awkward than her, and she loved him for  _ that. _

As a result, he was normally the tallest one at a ball by several inches, towering and glowering over obnoxious dignitaries when she wanted them to disappear. He could usually be found drinking a beer, especially after Anna had laughingly given him her blessing one night when he was wincing into a glass of a fine rosè, trying his hardest at trading conversation with the few attendees he knew and was comfortable with, making them laugh and comment to her on just how delightful her husband was. It had been the least she could do.

What made it funnier and more outstanding was that since then, many of the locals and the younger visitors had started requesting beer, as well, managing to leave him less in the minority and more popular than ever.

Kristoff wasn’t perfect—neither of them were—but he was as close as one could find on Earth.

The envoy from Corona arrived exactly on time, bringing warm regards from her cousins to the south, and a desire to further the strong bond between the two kingdoms. Anna was desperate to distract him from the situation at hand, but it proved impossible when Kai appeared, saying there was a letter from Olsen on the council’s approval of the resolution of  _ the matter,  _ and she was forced to explain. The young envoy nodded politely, looking appropriately sympathetic.

“It is always a difficult decision, Your Majesty,” he offered, bowing slightly. “I have never envied my King, or any other monarch, that. Your job is the most challenging in the kingdom, ma’am, if I may say so.” Was everyone in Corona so polite? “Please, let me engage this gentleman,” he gestured to Kai, who stood a little straighter, “to show me around the castle? Or perhaps, if he is already occupied, as I’m sure he has a great many tasks to fulfill for Your Majesty, he may point me to someone else who may be available?”

The man’s voice held no trace of sarcasm or the slightest insincerity, and it made Anna feel the tiniest bit guilty that she’d never met any of her cousins from Corona. She would have to send Kai back with the envoy to make up for it.

If only the rest of the day’s problems would prove so easy to solve.

Mattias and Kristoff arrived a short while later to say that the Sámi girl, Kaija, had disappeared during the night. The innkeeper said she had left several hours before dawn on her own, taking with her one of the horses that had pulled their carriage. With no saddle or harness, she had ridden off in the dark, offering no explanation. Her companion, Dure, accompanied them, ringing his hat in his hands, bowing awkwardly before Anna gave him a dismissive wave and a smile.

“She’s barely nineteen,” he fretted. “Surely she went home to her parents. That must be where she’s gone.” He almost sounded as if he wasn't sure.

“In any case,” Mattias said, glancing toward Anna with a concerned look, “we would like to put the sentences before you, see that they’re fair, in your perspective. Since the girl is gone, you’re our only envoy to your village.” Mattias gave Dure a small bow. “I hope you will accept the task, and I’m sure I can speak for Her Majesty and His Royal Highness, as well.”

Anna nodded and smiled brightly, elbowing Kristoff when he rolled his eyes before he nodded.

The old man straightened himself up at hearing himself regarded so highly. “And I will do my best to honor the wishes of Jágo’s family.”

“The younger brother,” Mattias began, “we would like to sentence to a five year term of conscription. Our intention is not to diminish his actions, but he did not fire any shots that killed or injured, correct?” The old man nodded, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “It was foolish for him to go along without asking questions, putting himself in a situation like that. But he’s also a fifteen year old boy who followed his brother’s directions. Thought he was helping his family.”

“And the killer?” Dure’s voice was hard. Anna knew from Kristoff’s explanation that Dure probably expected little to nothing to be done.

“He’s to be executed.”

Dure’s eyebrows raised. “For treason, of course.”

“The treason,” Kristoff interjected, voice dripping with contempt, “just made it that much easier.”

It was a side of Kristoff she seldom saw anymore, this part of him that still didn’t trust more people than he could count on one hand. It broke her heart and angered her to see in him the untrusting little boy who had lost his parents, wandering for days in the woods before circling back to find only charred remains, a handful of unmarked graves, and none of his people. All gone, because a group of men had been drunk and allowed the darkness in their hearts to overtake them.

It had led him to her, but still, he had been robbed of any chance he ever had at a normal childhood. Of knowing his parents. Of his parents seeing the beautiful family he had now. 

Anna hoisted her chin as she looked at Dure. “That man made a mistake,” she said. “Maybe in the past he could have gotten away from it. I’m sorry that my grandfather pardoned his father.” She noticed a slight softening in Dure’s eyes. “But if he thought this would be acceptable, to speak as he did with no fear of consequence, is unacceptable to me.” She raised her eyebrows. “Did you know he called me a whore?”

Dure gaped and stuttered, but she continued.

“He called me a whore for marrying someone like you. Someone like the man he killed. This man,” she continued, feeling her voice rise, “is the man I love, and the father of my children. He spent months running this country, and with great success. I have no place here for people who would speak against him the way he did. I’m the Queen,” she said, seeing the glint of pride in Kristoff’s eyes. “If anyone threatens me or my family, for any reason, that’s that. Done. I will not stand by while there is a threat to the safety of my husband or my children. A threat to our safety is a threat to the safety of this kingdom that I am sworn to protect.”

Kristoff had reached for her hand, and he squeezed it. She squeezed it tightly back.

It was quiet for a moment following her speech, then Dure finally spoke.

Dure was regarding Kristoff carefully. “I see it in you now,” he said, giving Kristoff a once over. “It’s in your eyes. You know what we endure. You’ve lived it, I know it.” The old man gave Kristoff an inscrutable look. “And you’ve not forgotten how it feels. I am grateful for that, sir.”

Then, he turned to Anna. “And I am so grateful for you, Your Majesty,” he went on. “I have lived in the boundaries of Arendelle all my life. I have never felt one way or the other, to be honest, never proud or ashamed. Today, I am proud to call myself your subject.” He smiled warmly, and she felt a blush in her cheeks. “Your father was a good king, Majesty, and I do not wish to speak ill of him, but by God, his daughter is magnificent.” He smiled at Kristoff. “You should be proud of your wife. Proud of her actions, proud of what she has seen in you and what she sees in others.”

The blush in her husband’s cheeks was the same one he gave her when she praised him or thanked him for something he thought was a given, and it managed to calm a few of the butterflies in her stomach. “I am. Thank you,” he said, very quietly, before clearing his throat and continuing, “I know you’ll be fine with the sentence for the older one.” Kristoff smiled at Dure, who seemed to be slowly taking bricks down from the wall he had built. “But the younger?”

Dure regarded him. “Fifteen, you say?” He managed to look down his nose at Kristoff, as if he were a child. “Would you have had the sense at fifteen not to blindly follow a sibling?”

“Well, I have no siblings, no real family, and by the time I was fifteen I had just purchased my own sled. First one,” he mused, stroking thoughtfully at his beard. “It was used. Very. But it was mine.” He shrugged and smiled. “In any case, I’m not a good example. This one here,” he continued, gesturing now to Anna, who felt the tips of her ears reddening, “did exactly that at eighteen. Followed her sister into a snowstorm. I was the one who helped her, though, so I don’t have a whole lot of room to talk.”

“Then conscription would suit him well.” Dure’s nod and blank expression showed how disconnected the man’s society was from Arendelle. As if reading Anna’s mind, he said, “We live a very different life, sir. We don't pay much attention to politics or marriage announcements, you see. I would have trusted your man there more in the beginning if I’d known you were one of us,” he said, sounding a little sad now, “but she didn’t tell me.”   


“You mean Kaija?” Dure nodded, and Anna frowned, confused. “How did Kaija know, but you didn’t?”

“I—” He stuttered. “I’m not sure, ma’am.” He bobbed now, seeming genuinely apologetic, almost as if he’d inexplicably put his foot in his mouth. “The child has an intuition I’ve never questioned.”

“Who is she?” Anna sat down on a chaise, watching as Dure went back to work on his hat. “I can guess she’s not your daughter. Is she your niece?”

Dure cleared his throat. “She’s the only living child of my oldest friend. And I truly don’t wish to be rude to you, ma’am, not after you’ve been so kind, but I believe I should say no more than that.” Another awkward bob, and Anna almost smiled. “I beg forgiveness, Majesty, but I must go after her. Rikkar will have my head if I let anything happen to her.”

“Who?”

“The girl’s father,” the old man explained, smiling, the expression a little sad. “Had a son before her, died in a fire. We all lost everything, had to pick up and move on so as not to starve and freeze to death. It was all we  _ could _ do.” He shrugged, and it made her wonder if anything in their lives ever came with ease. From Kristoff’s stories, probably not.

Dure was still speaking. “But Rikkar wanted a fresh start, and so did I, so we left. Traveled south, to the coast. Got better at fishing, ma’am,” he said, laughing a little now. “So, as such, I must go. I’ll be behind her with the cart, anyway, and she ran off with one of my horses. Always takes care of herself, Kaija,” he chuckled. “Just like her father always says.”

Then he shook hands with Mattias, bowed to Anna, and finally reached to shake Kristoff’s hand. Anna noticed for the first time that Kristoff’s eyes were glazed, as if he were lost in some deeply profound thought. But he blinked when Dure stepped closer, squinting up at him and shaking his hand longer than he had Mattias. “By Odin’s beard, but I could swear I know you.” The old man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Suppose you just have a familiar face. Thank you, sir, for all your help. I shall tell the tale of Prince…” Dure paused, then laughed. “By God, boy, I don’t even know your name!”

“Kristoff,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He was still a little lost in his mind, as if his thoughts were trapped in some impossible maze.

Dure suddenly stopped laughing. His face was suddenly as sober as if he had just been told he was dying tomorrow. He regarded Kristoff for a long moment, and Anna glanced at Mattias, who shrugged.

“Tell me, sir,” Dure said slowly, and he sounded like he was trying to piece together a complicated puzzle, “you mentioned you have children? What were you blessed with?”

“Two.” Kristoff answered automatically, looking confused. “A boy and a girl.”

“And what does your son look like?”

Kristoff blinked rapidly several times, and Anna wondered what under heaven was the reason for the sudden change of topic. But he answered. “He… Well,” he said, managing a laugh that was confused and breathy, “he looks like me. That’s him, right there.” He pointed to a small framed photograph on a table, tilted at an odd angle from the little boy in question toying with it one rainy afternoon.

Dure’s eyes widened as he stepped over, shock clear on his face as he looked at the photograph that had been taken just a few months before. None of them had been able to smile for sitting still so long, and the look on Mikael’s face was unusually grouchy. Anna had laughed when she had seen it, saying he looked more like Kristoff in that picture than she had ever believed possible.

“Do you believe in coincidence, boy?” Dure’s voice sounded as if he were coming to some kind of epiphany. It was in his eyes as he looked Kristoff up and down again.

“I don’t know.” A frown furrowed her husband’s brow, and Anna tried to think, tried to connect the dots, but there was something she was missing. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t know that I do, either.” Dure glanced around, sizing up Mattias again. It was like whatever he had to say, it wasn’t something he wanted the general to know.

“You know, I never did check in with the envoy from Corona,” Mattias said casually. “I’ll go entertain him.” He nodded to Dure. “Safe trip home. I do hope she’s safe.” And with a quick pat to the old man's shoulder, Mattias was gone.

“I hope we haven’t embarrassed you, ma’am, in front of your guests.” Dure’s voice was genuinely apologetic. “Or you, sir.”

Anna waved a hand. “They’re distant cousins,” she explained off. “I’ll write to them and they’ll understand. They’re my father’s family. A little stubborn sometimes,” she laughed, “but good people.”

“Family,” Dure said, almost as if to himself.

Anna felt her stomach lurch. She didn’t like being in the dark, but she was about to be dragged into a blinding light, and she felt unprepared. She felt it in her bones. 

Whatever was coming, it wasn’t some gentle shaking up. It was an avalanche that would turn everything upside down.

It had been over half a decade since her world had tilted on its axis, she supposed. They were well overdue for something crazy to happen.

Dure was speaking again. “The girl, Kaija,” he explained, “is the only living child of my oldest friend.”

“Yes, you told us that,” Anna said, rising to stand next to her husband. “There was a fire.”

“Yes, and Rikkar lost his son. Never did find a body in the remains. We never found several bodies, though. There were footsteps all around. Could have gone into the woods, been kidnapped, killed.” Dure’s eyes were glued on Kristoff’s face. “Five years old, the boy was. We all thought, how can a child that young survive on his own? Wasn’t like he didn’t know his way home. We waited around for a couple of days, but most of our provisions were gone, homes destroyed. Staying put would have ended the rest of us.”

Anna needed to sit down, and she did so rather heavily. She knew this story, but not from this perspective, she realized.

“So we left. Moved on, though it nearly destroyed them to do it. They had another child some years later. After some thought, he named his daughter Kaija.” The old man’s eyes crinkled. “His precious girl. The first one, though, the boy, was named for Rikkar’s mother. Her name was Kirstie. Died rather tragically, well before the boy was born, so Rikkar named him Kristoff.”

Was this possible? Was it real? Was there any way for this man to have information like this if he  _ wasn’t _ telling the truth?

She didn’t think so.

“When Rikkar settled, it was for her safety, as much as anything else. His little girl meant more to him and his wife than anything, especially after their loss. Never thought I’d see the day. Settled, when he could have been so much more.”

“Why?” Kristoff sounded as if he were transfixed. “What did he do?”

Dure regarded Kristoff before saying, “He was an ice harvester. Figured out how to make a killing in town, brought the money back to help the family. To help us all, really. But it wasn’t enough, in the end. Take away a man’s home, he’s still a man. Take away his money, he’s still a man. Take away his child, he’s a shadow. Rikkar never went up the mountain again. We wandered for years before settling down.”

It was quiet for a long time. Anna remembered Kristoff’s words the night before about coincidences and understanding when she saw, and the pieces began to click more clearly together.

She wondered what Kaija had looked like, but Kristoff seemed to be reading her mind.

“Kaija,” Kristoff said, his voice very quiet. The name came out slowly, as did the rest of the words. “Does she look like…” The question didn’t make sense to Anna, as he had just seen the girl yesterday, but it did to Dure.

“A closer resemblance between a mother and daughter can’t be found,” Dure said, just as quietly. Kristoff was nodding, clearly piecing together his own puzzle in his mind. “Her mother’s name is Johánná.” Then Dure laughed. “But for the height, of course. Jo is a tiny woman. Married a beast of a man. The girl gets her height from him. But else, looks just like her mother.”

Johánná. Kristoff’s mother. The woman they’d named their daughter for. The last voice Kristoff heard from his past before it all burned to the ground.

He affectionately called their daughter Jojo, because he could remember his father calling his wife Jo. A little Jo, he’d once said.

“And but for the nose,” Dure added wryly, “the spitting image of her brother, when she was young. I remember.” He eyed Kristoff, then the photograph again. “Still would have that resemblance, were he alive. I’d expect him to be tall, like his father, I suppose. He was tall for a boy his age, as I recall.”

Kristoff had once said he had only vague memories of his mother, but that she was blonde, like him, with the same brown eyes, and very beautiful.

There was a long, silent exchange between Kristoff and Dure. Eyes met eyes for a long time, then the old man spoke again, this time with more conviction in his voice.

“Kaija said your soldier friend knew her dead brother. She wanted me to return home for her parents, bring them back to Arendelle.” Dure grimaced at this. “There was no argument. When Kaija is certain, it is unwise to question her. Made no sense to me, being that most of us think the boy must have died, but Kaija knew otherwise. But then she wouldn’t speak of it again, saying only that we would return home together.”

“Most of us?” Kristoff finally found his voice.

“Johánná never believed it,” Dure said. “She believes in her heart he walks this earth, still. Says she knows it.”

“But how could she  _ know  _ that?” Anna realized she was holding Kristoff’s hand, that his fingers were suddenly tightening around hers, around the same time she realized she had spoken. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. “How could Kaija know?”

Dure paused, seeming to be looking for the right words. “Even out on the fringes, we have heard the tale of the ice witch. Your sister, she has magic in her.” Anna nodded mutely. “Kaija has magic of a different sort. She is not a conjurer in the way you sister is. It comes from her father, you see. His mother, she could see things. The future, you know.”

Well, now she’d heard it all. She was only a little surprised that she wasn’t more shocked.

“Kaija sees things, but she holds one vision of the past. She sees the fire that took her brother, sees him running off into the woods. Hears her mother’s cries for him to run. That is why Johánná believes as she does.” Dure glanced toward the couch, where Kaija had sat the day before. “Kaija would not tell me what she saw. I wasn’t surprised—Rikkar says she never does. But,” he continued, his voice hesitant, “she said your soldier friend knows her brother. Said she couldn't explain it, but that there was a little boy with the soldier.

“A young child,” he elaborated slowly, “like her brother, with a mess of blonde hair and her own eyes, just like the little boy who ran into the woods. And there was a man with him. A man who looked like that boy. A Sámi man.” Dure gave Kristoff a long, pointed look. “I knew that boy once, would still know him anywhere, and I would tell you he’s there in that picture if such a thing were possible.”

_ Mikael.  _ Mikael was a miniature of Kristoff, down to the way his hair got in his face, his facial expressions, and the talking to Sven. She had often imagined herself that looking at her son was like looking at a tiny Kristoff.

Had Kaija seen Mikael? It wasn’t unusual for their children to be around both Mattias and their father. In fact, it was rather common. Just this morning, Mattias had been carrying Mikael through the great hall, Josefine attached to his leg, laughing as he’d passed the boy to Kristoff before the pair had headed for the village.

Kristoff was still mute, so Anna asked, “You said her father’s name is Rikkar.” She knew that it had been Kristoff’s father’s name. It was one of Mikael’s middle names. “Just Rikkar?”

“Rikkar Bjorgman,” Dure said, and Anna watched the blood drain from her husband’s face. “Tell me, Majesty, do you know anyone by that name?”

And for the first time in the nearly ten years since she’d known him, Kristoff fainted.

* * *

Kaija would never know how she stayed on the horse with wave after wave of horrible flashbacks. She watched the  _ lavvu _ burning over and over, watched Kristoff run into the woods over and over.

She kept comparing the Kristoff in the memory to the little boy in her vision, and to the man she had met yesterday. She imagined if one took away the beard and made him decades younger, the two would be nearly identical. The Prince hadn’t mentioned children, but the innkeepers had. 

The little Crown Prince of Arendelle and his sister, the Princess Royale.

And she kept having visions, violent ones now, like the ones her grandmother had received. She slumped in sleep for what felt like hours. It was drowning her, consuming her like a raging wildfire would dried grass. She needed to be home, needed her parents. Too many flashes to see, too much happening, but she kept seeing the Prince Consort. She focused on that, not wanting to be dragged further under by trying to decipher every detail.

Too much and too fast to make out details. It was dizzying, but that face again and again and again… 

The man who looked exactly like her, but with a perfect replica of her father’s nose.

And then there was that one other vision that made her skin tingle, the one that burned into her skull and confused her more than anything, the one that seemed to have nothing to do with Kristoff or his memories, or the little Crown Prince.

The one she could actually recall and focus on without feeling like she was going mad.

_ “Why haven’t you told them?” The man’s voice was familiar to this version of herself, but she could not recognize him to save her own life. He was dark haired, closer in complexion to her father, skin a few shades darker than hers, hair the color of dark chocolate. His eyes, while full of love, nevertheless looked befuddled. _

_ “Because I wasn't supposed to!” Her own voice, now. That, she recognized. “I can’t tell you why—” _

_ “Because you saw it, I know.” The man ran a hand over his face. “Kaija, I don’t understand—” _

_ “What’s not to understand?” She was on a rock. She hopped down. “I can’t tell you why I couldn’t tell them the truth.” _

_ There was silence. Then he asked softly, “Would you have met me? If you told them, I mean.” _

_ More silence, then her own answer. “I don’t know.” _

The second time she saw it, she burned it into her memory. There wasn't much, but it was all there. The almost boyish face of the man she somehow knew she would love. The woods around them, unusually beautiful and feeling filled with vibrant life. The smell of the leather he wore, his sweat from hard work. The most amazing feeling of being loved.

The third and fourth time, she tried to understand what the  _ hell _ this was about, and how it related to everything else happening.

“Kaija!” She blinked herself awake slowly, feeling drunk on the visions. Her father’s voice brought her back to reality. She was in front of their earthen home, built into the hill, where she had lived all her life.

Strange, she thought, but it was never really home. Even now, it didn’t feel like coming home so much as arriving at the place her family dwelled.

Strong hands reached up to pull her down from the horse, and Kaija’s eyes lolled in her head. “Johánná! Fetch water!”

“No,” Kaija managed to say, weakly grasping for her father’s thick arm—he was carrying her. There was fear in his face. “Papa, please.”

Then she was sitting up on a stump her father had cut and pulled from the ground himself, one night when agony overtook him and he could not be near his wife or child. It was ironic.

“Papa,” she said again, and now her mother was there, her warm, concerned eyes swimming into her field of vision, then almost immediately out again.

_ Dure, pulling into the village. At his side, the Queen and her husband. Her brother. _

_ You would never have known it, for how they dressed.  _

_ Panicked expressions filled the three faces. Rikkar was gone, Johánná and Kaija gone, as well. None knew where they had gone. Rikkar hadn’t said, but had bundled his wife and daughter away, up the road leading north… _

They had to leave.

They had to leave now. She couldn’t explain it. They had to leave, to find the woods, to find the man. Had to leave, had to leave soon. Before Dure returned. Had to leave Dure. Couldn’t say why, and God, was she sorry but she couldn’t explain it to save her life, they just had to leave  _ now…  _

She heard mumbling, realized she was speaking aloud.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she finally found her father’s eyes. “It won’t stop, Papa,” she whimpered. “I’m drowning and it won’t stop.”

He didn’t speak, tried to hide the fear in his face as he pulled her against his chest.

Then…

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety… _

Rikkar’s face was hard when she came to again. “Jo,” he grumbled, his voice low and commanding in his chest, “pack. We leave in one hour.”

Kaija collapsed.

It was a long time, she knew, before she opened her eyes. The days were longer as summer crept closer, and it was mostly dark. They must have been on the roads for hours, and she did not recognize the landscape around her.

She groaned, propping herself up and rubbing her eyes. “Papa?” she called, knowing that her mother might be dead to the world, but her father could go for days with little to no sleep.

“Yes, dearest.” He sounded relieved.

“Can brains break?” She shook her head. “Really, I feel like I can  _ feel _ my brain rattling around in my head.”

“I’m not sure.” He chuckled. “What do you think, Nils?” Kaija found it in herself to roll her eyes as her father’s voice completely changed and became like the silly voices some parents used with their children. 

Except, for her father, that voice was reserved for the reindeer. “I dunno, Rikkar. I guess anything’s possible!” 

Then he spoke again, his voice its regular low register. “See? Nils says it could happen.” She could swear the reindeer smirked. “Are you alright?” There was concern in his voice now.

“Was this what it was like for my grandmother?” Kaija rubbed her eyes again, this time forcing them open wide as she dropped her hands again. 

“Yes, but never quite so many in such quick succession.” Her father turned his face back toward the road, but she could hear the real worry in his voice. “And with the few days you’ve had…”

“It’s the flashbacks.” She winced, rubbing at her temple. She leaned forward, carefully avoiding her mother where she snorted in her sleep, but stayed deeply under. “It’s been a few times a year for as long as I can remember. Less, sometimes. But now, it’s constant.” Desperate for a change of subject, she cast her eyes forward to the old reindeer steadily carrying them down a road. “Nils is up for the adventure, I see.”

“Ah, Nils and I haven’t had a long trip like this together in many years.” Nils made what sounded like a happy sound, one Kaija was familiar with but never stopped being intrigued by, and her father smiled. “We used to go up the mountain for ice for  _ weeks.”  _ He sighed softly. “We could go there now, but you were saying something about the woods. So,” he concluded, “toward the woods we go.” Rikkar’s eyes sparkled now. “Any idea where we go now?”

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety… _

“Kaija?” Her father’s voice broke through the memory. She sighed frustratedly. “Dearest, can you tell me what’s in your head?”

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety… _

“It won’t stop,” she gasped. At her side, her mother stirred. “I keep seeing it and hearing it over and over. I’m not trying to, I—”

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety… _

“Rikkar, keep going.” Her mother’s voice was firm as she climbed nimbly into the back of the wagon with her daughter. She held Kaija’s face firmly between her hands, brown eyes meeting brown eyes.

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety. _

_ The woods were cold, but he kept running…  _

Kaija gasped for breath. It was like drowning when she knew she could breathe. She could—

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety. _

_ The woods were cold, but he kept running. He ran until he couldn’t hear voices anymore, until it was quiet…  _

“Rikkar, what is happening?” Her mother’s voice now, in the present, sounding fearful for the first time. That worried Kaija. Her mother was one of the most fearless women she knew. “Did your mother—”

“Not like this, no.” There was a jostling as Kaija tried to focus on the feel of wood under her hands, the crisp air that surrounded them. “You drive. Let me—”

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety. _

_ The woods were cold, but he kept running. He ran until he couldn’t hear voices anymore, until it was quiet, and then, he finally stopped. He was shivering in the cold, his breath coming out in puffs of steam…  _

“Kaija!” Her father was shaking her gently. His voice was fearful, like earlier. “Kaija, hear me, child! It’s me, my love, it’s your papa—”

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety. _

_ The woods were cold, but he kept running. He ran until he couldn’t hear voices anymore, until it was quiet, and then, he finally stopped. He was shivering in the cold, his breath coming out in puffs of steam. There was no one around. He kept walking.  _

_ There was a cave. It was empty. It was a place to hide, and Kristoff reached into his pocket—his pockets were always full of treasures—and found flint and steel. A fire was built, and it was warm again. _

_ And Kristoff slept…  _

And then, it was done.

Kaija held tightly to her father’s hands, focusing on his words and the sound of his voice. 

He loved her. He was fearful. Could she speak, please, God, he wondered in a voice like he had seen a ghost.

She shook her head, trying to clear it.

“Jo?” Her father’s voice registered, but she could not respond. Her body felt drained. “How long?”

“I’ve counted to one hundred and seventy six.”

“What was the highest before?”

Kaija managed a weak smile when she heard the eye roll in her mother’s voice. “Twenty two, my love.”

“Kaija?” Her father sounded slightly calmer. “What did you see, child?”

Her exhausted brain recalled the dark man, his warm and loving eyes.

She shook her head. “Just the flashbacks again, Papa.”

“They’ve never come so close together.”

They never had.

There were no coincidences. 

One last glimmer before true sleep claimed her tired mind, this one of a time to come…

_ “Stop it!” She couldn’t see a thing. Her eyes were covered. She was laughing jovially. She was  _ happy. _ “Where are you taking me?” _

_ “Almost there.” That voice. “I promise, it’s worth the wait.” _

_ “So, when you said you know nothing about women…” She smiled, still blind, but it didn’t bother her.  _

_ “Oh, I meant every word.” His laugh was so pleasing. She wanted it again. _

_ Oh, God, wanted more. Wanted  _ him _ …  _

_ Then her eyes were opened wide to the most amazing sunrise she’d ever seen…  _

_ “Kaija?” His voice was hesitant. “Can… Well, I wondered if I could…” _

_ “Yes, Ryder,” she laughed. “You can kiss me.” _

_ And oh, boy, did he ever. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane. I’m going to clean now. It's been days... 😶


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My husband has informed my that our computer finally died. Sorry if there are formatting problems. I'm continuing on my (ancient) iPad and phone for now.
> 
> Enjoy!

_***Two years later***_

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Anna, or course not!”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Why? Do they not want me here?”

Rolled eyes met the question. “They adore you. I’ve seen you with them, Elsa.”

A coy smile. “I just know how to work them.”

A suspicious glare. “Kristoff taught you things, didn’t he?”

“And if he did?”

Anna paused. Then, “Well, he taught me things, too, so I guess at least we’re going to the same expert.”

“Of course!” Elsa glanced toward the door to the bedroom. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him we think he’s an expert, or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Sighing heavily, Anna rested a hand on top of the chest she had just finished packing. “Well, I guess we’re off again.” She grimaced.

Elsa gave her a very loaded look. “How is he?” she asked, lowering her voice.

Anna returned Elsa’s gaze. “Well, he found out he still has family, and then they disappeared. How would you feel?”

“Fair enough.”

As if on cue, shrieking laughter sounded from the bedroom, and the sisters left the dressing room to find Kristoff on the bed, children half buried in a pile of blankets underneath his torso. 

“Papa, let us go!” Mikael’s words were interspersed with laughter.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Aunt Elsa’s here!”

Kristoff gave an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I can, then.” Rolling off to his side, he released the two squirming bodies, and both children were vaulting off the bed in spectacular style, racing to be the first to reach her.

Kristoff moved past them into the dressing room for their luggage. On the way, he stopped to drop a kiss onto the top of Elsa’s head. “Thanks for this,” he said softly.

Elsa’s eyes were warm as she reached out to give his arm a squeeze. “Anytime,” she murmured. Then she turned her attention to the children again. “Say goodbye to your papa, babies,” she instructed.

Kristoff knelt, reaching first for Mikael. He straightened the boy's vest over his shoulders, then mussed his blonde mop. “You take care of your sister,” he reminded Mikael, who nodded seriously. “You're the oldest, so that means you have to watch out for her and be a good example for her. Listen to your aunt.”

“I will, Papa,” the little boy said, sounding especially serious. “I promise.”

“That's my man.” Kristoff hugged him tightly, seeming reluctant to let go, but he finally did.

Josefine was next, her blue eyes unusually solemn as she reached out to touch her father’s face. The children knew little of what plagued their father, but they knew he was not his usual self. Josefine had taken it on herself to be a reminder of the importance of his own self care, and she did so again now. “Don't forget to take a nap,” she instructed.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And you have to eat fruit and vegetables. Promise?”

“I promise, Jojo.”

“Okay.” Her little hands began to trace his face, almost like she was recommitting it to memory. “Why do you have to be gone so long?”

“We’ll be back tomorrow, sweetheart,” he promised.

Josefine frowned. “Nuh-uh.”

“Two days, tops.”

“No, it'll take longer than that.”

“Don't you have faith in me?”

Josefine rolled her eyes. “Yes, Papa.”

“We’ll be home as soon as we can, sweetie,” Anna promised.

The little girl still seemed to be skeptical, but she reached for her father, and Kristoff wrapped her up in his arms. “Be a good listener. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Then he stage whispered in her ear, “Don't forget, now's a really good time to hide some chocolate from Mama while we’re gone.”

Josefine giggled.

He had another quick hug for Elsa before he disappeared into the dressing room for the trunk, readied for their next venture into the mountains.

The last two years had been wilder than Anna could ever have imagined. Kristoff spent half of his time running the ice trade and the other half chasing leads on his family. They had disappeared as soon as Kaija had returned to the village, with no explanation or hint of their intended whereabouts. Even Dure had been confused. He had known Rikkar for decades. For the man to vanish…

Sometimes Kristoff went alone, especially if it was a wilder hint, something that he knew would be fruitless but that he had to look into. Sometimes he went with Ryder, the pair meeting in the middle and looking for any sign of the disappeared Bjorgman family.

And sometimes, on the one when he didn’t have to travel so far or be gone for days on end, he took Anna.

This was one of those excursions. A group of ice harvesters might have seen them, and they were only half a day away. Unusual, but fortunate.

So Elsa was called on again to watch the children in the absence of both parents. And thank God, really, for Elsa.

Anna knew her sister felt the occasional twinges of guilt for leaving Anna in charge of an entire kingdom when she had been raised as the spare. Elsa had always insisted that Anna was much more than that, and that she had been right to put Arendelle in her capable hands.

Now, from time to time, when the turn of her husband’s life meant that he took priority to her over the kingdom, Elsa would step in to watch the children and take Anna’s meetings, keeping things organized for her sister’s return. Elsa never did more than that, saying it might send the wrong message for the former queen to take over the duties of the current one, signing papers and passing laws. So Elsa restricted herself to teas, finding herself much more comfortable in her new role than her former one.

Sometimes, even when Anna was able to be home and with the children, when Kristoff was away chasing scraps of clues, Elsa would come to stay. Those times, she busied herself with the children, not filling the gap left by her husband’s absence so much as making it not so painfully enormous. 

Anna tried not to think of Kristoff as absent, though he often was. When home, he was fully engaged, embracing his wife and their growing children with fervor. But then it was up the mountain, with an excursion to see if someone knew something… 

Kristoff’s shoulders were heavy this morning, like the mountain was about to climb him, and she noticed immediately when she met him in the stables. He was moving with little sense of urgency, taking his time as he loaded the wagon and started to hitch up Sven, spending more time than was usual murmuring to his oldest friend, scratching him behind the ears. He watched with especially tired eyes as she tossed her satchel behind the seat, in front of the trunk that contained clothes and the sacks of their provisions, then climbed lightly up into her seat. 

Before she could open her mouth to throw out some attempt at an explanation of her concerns, Kristoff spoke.

“This is the last one, Anna.” She blinked. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't that.. He was shaking his head. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m missing out on my life for someone who obviously doesn’t want to be found.” A deep scowl had worked its way into his forehead. “And I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore, baby, I can’t.” Anna wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. He wrapped his hand around hers tightly. “I have a life with you. We have two beautiful kids, and I’m missing things. For Christ’s sake, I missed Mika’s last birthday. I missed Jojo learning how to do a somersault. I can’t miss my kids growing up to chase around somebody who always disappears before I manage to show up.”

“Hey.” She gave his hand a squeeze, gazed back as he met her eyes. “I know how hard this is for you. I can’t imagine how you feel right now. If it was me, I wouldn’t even be able to sleep or eat, and I know how hard you’re trying to be okay. But I see you awake at night as often as I see you asleep.” She pressed her lips against his knuckles, feeling him sigh softly and relax, even if it was just a little. “Then you get up and do an outstanding job of acting like everything’s fine, but I know you’re not.” She leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, and he smiled a little. “I sleep next to you, Bjorgman. There’s no getting anything past me.”

“I just don’t understand…” He trailed off, not speaking again as he finished readying Sven.

“Come here,” she murmured, reaching for his hands and pulling them toward her. He came willingly into the circle of her arms, managing to seem small as he curled against her, resting his face against her neck. “You’re doing everything right, honey. If you want to be done, be done. I get it. And I’m not going to lie, managing those two is nowhere near as easy as you make it look, even with all the help we have, but I don’t mind it at all. They’re my babies. I would move mountains for those two, and I know you would, too, and I know how hard it’s been for you to be away from them.” She kissed his hands again. “But don’t give up completely.”

His arms wrapped more tightly around her, lifting her off her feet. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You helped me climb the North Mountain, even when you didn’t want to, only get hit on the head and race me back to another man and then watch me freeze solid.” He shuddered. “Then there was the time I abandoned you with a bunch of strangers in the woods.” He chuckled at that, and she smiled. “And also, you proposed five different times, then married the Queen of Arendelle when you signed up for a princess, and then gave me the two most beautiful children on the face of the earth. The very least I can do to say thank you is help you look for your family.”

“You’re my family.” His words were muffled against her neck, but they made her feel as if she had swallowed a sunbeam. “You and the kids, and God, I don’t know what we’d do without your sister…” 

Her heart swelled in her chest at his words. This was the man she had married, the one who laughed with her sister and threw their children up in the air. She found his lips with hers, pressing them chastely together as he swayed slightly on the spot. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, and she could see the raw pain in his face, the same pain he buried away from everyone but her.

“I love you,” she whispered, squeezing his hands tightly in hers. “I’m really glad I bumped into you in the middle of a magical snowstorm.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warming her from the inside out. “Yeah, just be glad I decided you weren’t going to take no for an answer.” He kissed her again, lingering a little longer this time. “I love you, too.”

“So, where are we going?” Anna made herself comfortable in her seat at his side as they rode out the back way, around the town and onto a less traveled road.

“Up to the snowline.” He nodded up the road. “A few of the harvesters noticed a family yesterday, up by the woods, but they were staying off the roads. They were close to the road yesterday, or so I was told.” He sighed. “The snowpack is lower this year, so they’re harvesting closer to the city. Almost never happens. They might know something,” he shrugged, “and we might find nothing, or just a family of nomads. Worth a shot.” When she glanced at him, he was hunched forward, as if he were twice his age. 

“Hey, Kristoff.”

“Hmm.” His eyes were out of focus as they rode up the road.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Remember the time you tried to propose to me, but you ended up calling me crazy?”

For the first time in at least a week, he cracked a smile that met his eyes. “I was trying,” he said, rolling his eyes at her, “to be romantic.”

“You were trying,” she teased, “and failing.”

“Cut a guy some slack.” The smile widened, lighting his face. “I was trying to propose to a princess.”

“Oh, poor Kristoff.” She grinned back when he chuckled. “I think I got the best one, anyway.”

“Really?” He turned in his seat, looking completely disbelieving, and she hid her grin behind her fingers. “I tried romantic firelight, romantic evening ride, romantic scenery, grand gesture, and the one you liked the best was the one where you almost died right before?”

“Yep. Simple, straight to the point.” She patted his hand.

“Seriously. I didn’t have to do the grand gestures, the over the top—”

“Kristoff!” She was laughing again at the myriad of expressions on his face. She held his face in her hands for a moment, studying him.

His brown eyes were uncharacteristically dull, even though they were animated now from her teasing. There were dark circles under his eyes from his extended lack of sufficient sleep, and she noticed for the first time, on close inspection, a few strands of grey, almost hidden by blonde, in his hair.

That shocked her as much as anything, and it must have shown on her face, because he said, “Pretty bad, huh?” Pulling free of her hands, he put his gaze back on the road, a grimace pulling at his face. “I found one,” he said, gesturing at his head, “just one, a few months ago. Now there’s four or five of the bastards. I’ve survived two infant children and a wife who jumps off cliffs and dams, and this is what makes me go grey.” He scowled.

“That face doesn’t help anything, I’m just saying.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What are you gonna do about it?” The scowl softened into a teasing expression.

She scooted closer on the seat, wrapping both her arms around one of his—God, had he grown more muscles?—and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “This.” She sighed softly, resting her forehead there. “God, we’re starting to age.”

“Careful.”

“I’m not saying we’re old, or even getting old. It’s just, I’m not growing anymore, and it’s really dawning on me.” 

He considered this, then said, “I’ll give you that.”

“I’m going to get old, Kristoff,” she warned. “Old and saggy and the farts are just going to get worse, you know it.”

Finally, he threw his head back, bursting into laughter. She grinned. Farts were perhaps juvenile, certainly unladylike, but always funny.

“Do you…” He could barely breathe, let alone speak, but he tried, clutching his sides. “Do you remember…” Now he was cackling, and she raised her eyebrows, knowing exactly where the conversation was turning, but she supposed she had started it, after all. “Do you remember…” Tears were rolling. Real, actual tears. “I fell out of bed!” he spluttered, and then he was laughing so hard he had to hand her the reins.

Sven glanced back, almost seeming to raise an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she muttered, glaring at Sven as he grinned. “Traitor,” she grumbled, and the reindeer drew himself up and turned forward, continuing his trot up the road. “And I was pregnant with Josefine. That wasn’t necessarily me at my physical best.”

When he could finally speak again, he managed to say, “Nothing before and nothing since has matched those ones. And I think you passed it on to Jojo.”

“Oh, God!” Anna grimaced. “That child can have the worst gas,” she groaned, Kristoff still vibrating with laughter at her side.

With Kristoff busier than ever, Anna had taken on more of the responsibilities of raising their two children. Somehow, she had never been around Josefine for quite so much flatulence, and the little girl put on quite the show. 

He was still laughing as her mind wandered…

The entire run of Anna’s pregnancy with Josefine had been difficult. She was more bloated and gassier, much less comfortable. The midwife, who had been gleefully unconcerned through her first pregnancy, now paid much more attention to the squirming, dancing child in her belly. While Josefine hadn’t shown any distress, her position seemed off, according to the midwife. It didn’t appear she was breech, so the midwife had encouraged them to relax, saying that there was nothing more to be done until the birth other than for Anna to rest more this time around, which she gladly did.

But then the birth was difficult. Josefine’s position was off. There was significantly more strain, much more damage… 

There were still many long moments that were unaccounted for in Anna’s mind. She hadn’t been awake to hear her daughter’s first cry. She had opened her eyes when she heard her husband’s voice, breaking with sobs and filled with fear. It had been intolerable, and through sheer willpower, she had managed to force her lids to open and her heart to keep beating.

Then she hadn’t been able to hold Josefine for what felt like an interminable amount of time. It had been her husband who helped Anna with feeding, who had kept her in bed with their infant in his arms so Anna could hold her tiny hand. It had been Kristoff who held their daughter against his bare chest while he soothed her to sleep each night.

“Hey.” A nudge to her side. “I can take that now, if you want.” He gestured at the reins in her hand. “What’s on your mind? We’ve got a few hours until we really have to start looking.”

Anna fidgeted with her wedding ring. In contrast to her engagement ring, it was a simple gold band. A perfect circle, no beginning and no end.

“I was just thinking about Jojo.” As she considered, she realized this was something that had been on her mind with much more frequency over the past few years. It was starting to bother her just around the time that Kaija appeared, only to dissipate just as quickly, but it had niggled at the back of her mind ever since. She hadn’t talked to him about it, really.

Kristoff sat quietly, seeming to sense she had something to say. He reached one hand over between them, taking hers and twining their fingers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand while he waited.

“Does it ever bother you it’ll only be the two of them?” she finally asked.

“Are you a fortune teller now?”

Anna rolled her eyes. Kristoff carried a well developed bitterness toward Kaija now, especially toward the gift that was potentially allowing her to always stay three steps ahead of him. “She’s a seer, Kristoff. And no, but they said it was almost definite that it wouldn’t happen again, and it hasn’t.” She sighed, leaning against his side. “And you wanted a big family.”

More quiet while he thoughtfully looked down at their fingers. “I wouldn't say it bothers me,” he said slowly, “as much as I would say maybe it makes me a little sad sometimes. Not that I’m not so grateful for the ones we have, and honestly, I’m not sure how I’d manage three.”

“You’d be great.”

“Maybe. But I guess that's why it doesn't bother me more. We have two beautiful, healthy kids. That's nothing to be sad about.” He was sour again. “And God knows, I haven’t managed the two we’ve got very well the last couple of years.”

“They understand more than you think you do,” Anna reasoned. “They know how important this is.”

“But they’re kids. They’re not supposed to…” He trailed off, grimacing.

Kristoff was thinking about it again. Couldn’t get it out of his head now, he’d said some time back. He kept thinking about that night. What if he hadn’t fallen asleep? What if he’d risked it and gone back while the drunks were still there? Would he have lived?

Would they ever have met each other?

What if he never got this chance again? He had surmised that his parents had to be nearing or past fifty. Two years had gone by. What if they grew old and died? Unlikely, Dure had insisted. They were both in excellent health. But still, she knew it bothered him. He told her in whispered words over their pillows late at night, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“Something has to be going on,” he muttered now, and she recognized his shift into a rant. There were too many things on his mind, she knew, and he would mumble for hours on end sometimes. Anna did her best to nod and pat his hand. “It has to be. What if she never told them? Why would she be hiding, keeping them away from me? Is she scared of me? Selfish? I have no idea.”

“Maybe something she’s seen…” Anna rubbed his wrist softly with her fingertips.

“I know she’s seen me, I know she knows who I am. There has to be something, because if it’s all for nothing, I don’t know if I’ll ever want to see her again. And what if they do know, and they’re just going along with it? I thought they died, Anna.” His brow furrowed deeply. “I spent most of my life thinking I was an orphan. I was in a God damned orphanage! And Pabbie’s never seen anything, can’t find her anywhere, and God knows he’s fucking tried. He’s tried a hell of a lot harder than she ever has.”

Anna knew part this was true, knew this was a deep root of something that bothered him, as well. Pabbie had tried to look for Kaija, for any sign of Kristoff’s family, but it wasn’t there.

Seers, the old troll had murmured, were hard to see.

Which begged a whole new set of questions. What if Kaija was wrong? What if he was wrong? How could he be wrong when Kaija was an exact copy of the blurry memories of his mother, ones that grew stronger with more time spent dwelling, that grew stronger every day.

How could he be wrong when Dure had insisted otherwise?

Even though Pabbie had shrugged. Seers were tricky, he’d explained. No two were exactly the same, no two saw things the same way. They could hide behind their visions. Even drown in them. 

Was Kaija drowning in visions?

Anna had heard it all before, and she heard it again now as her husband tried to decipher his life. It broke her heart that there was nothing more she could do to help him than sit at his side and hold his hand, hoping that the mountain air would do him good.

Hoping against hope that they would find something this time.

* * *

Once, many years ago, he’d heard the story of a city of gold. Men scoured the globe, but it was never found. They fought each other, fought locals, fought their own demons, but never did they find the city.

Kaija’s woods seemed to be just as elusive.

But he never complained. Rikkar would do anything to put an end to his daughter’s pain. Even if it meant her following a vision.

Because they were worse when they stayed in one place too long. Worse when she tried to ignore them. 

Kaija was not getting much sleep. She had wild dreams when she did—dreams, she insisted, because they were far too outlandish to be real—and was woken by visions. She never told him what they were, but he knew they haunted her. He could see it in the dulling of her honey brown eyes, the bags under them, the way she moved more slowly than was usual for his normally energetic daughter.

He knew the flashbacks were worse. So much worse. When she’d been a child, they had been relatively infrequent, accompanied by a feeling of wishing to forget that she had never been explain. He knew they were different now, somehow. Longer. And again, she didn’t speak to their content, but she would say that they nearly balanced out in frequency with the visions.

She truly did not seem to understand why.

Now, she said, it felt like they were searching. But those were the only details she gave, and it nagged in his mind. Who was searching? Why, and why now, and with such a sudden increase?

Late the night before, he had whispered his worries to Johánná, who had shaken her head sadly. She had always understood Kaija’s burden, understood it in a way that only a mother could understand, and seldom questioned. Whether Kaija spoke of her visions or didn’t, Johánná never complained, never questioned. She had pulled him into the safe circle of her arms, wrapped around him as they sat in front of the small fire, watching their daughter sleep and saying nothing more.

He understood, though.

Rikkar had grown up with a seer, his mother. That was her burden, she’d said once, cursed with knowledge. And they weren’t always clear, so why bother stirring the mirk?

But they hadn't really understood how easy it was to be lost in them. She had become their slave. It had destroyed her, in the end, drowned her in sight. He would never allow that fate to befall his daughter.

So when Kaija had told them about the woods she had seen, knew there was something—someone—there, they had all searched for the woods together, as a family.

Their wanderings had taken them closer to Arendelle, close enough to see men pulling ice from the low lakes, enough to make Rikkar a little homesick. They stayed off the main roads, though, searching for those woods. Not these, not that, those. Many a beautiful view, but none quite like the one in her dream.

Rikkar cast his gaze around him. They needed a place to stop for the night, and there appeared to be two options. A high ridge to his south looked to hide a promising valley, perhaps one where there was a quiet cave to curl up in. To the north, woods that, if he remembered correctly, were home to some rather ferocious wolves.

South, then.

Rikkar managed Nils carefully up an old road that looked to be so seldom used it almost wasn’t there. The light in the sky, which seemed to be weaker lately as spring set in, was brighter here. Rikkar felt the hair on the back of his neck raise a little, but continued.

There was a valley, he could see, and a nice cave off one edge. But what bothered him were the rounded rocks that were everywhere.

He was about to turn around, find somewhere else, when Kaija suddenly sat up, looking around frantically.

“Don’t worry, my love, we’re leaving.” Rikkar’s eyebrows furrowed under his hat. “Something about this place—”

“No, Papa, stay!” Kaija was blinking, still seeming a little harried from lack of sleep. “I thought…” She looked around, eyes wide. “I thought this was a dream.” More blinking. “Am I dreaming?”

“Not unless I am, love.”

Rikkar didn’t like it when Kaija hopped down from the waggon, seeming wildly unconcerned about her surroundings. On the contrary, she looked curious. Reaching out, she started to touch one of the rounded stones, but Rikkar jumped to his feet.

“Don’t touch them, child!” Rikar was raised in superstition, unable to help his reaction. “We don’t know why they’re here. Placed by some witch, maybe.”

But Kaija smiled, shaking her head. “They’re not rocks, Papa.”

“Then for God’s sake, girl, let’s be on our way!” A rumbling began in the ground, and he started. It was enough to wake Johánná, and she sat up from her bed in the corner of the wagon, looking around in shock.

“Where are we?”

“Kaija, get back here now!” Frantic now, Rikkar leapt down, running toward his daughter—the only child he had, the one he had vowed to his wife he would not lose.

For a split second, his mind wandered back to the night when they had lost their son. For years, he’d harbored a feeling of responsibility. He had pulled his wife along with him, unable to reach Kristoff before the lavvu collapsed. The last thing he had seen was the boy groggily waking to smoke and flames. There was no banishing the low moans and sobs of his wife as their friends shook their heads sadly, saying there was no sign of their boy. Any footsteps they’d been able to follow led to nothing, and just like that, they’d lost the only child they had. 

He would not make the same mistake twice, even if Kaija insisted he’d run to the woods, even if his wife insisted there was still a chance… 

The rocks around them were moving now. Several were rolling toward them, and moving quickly. They were speeding toward the wagon, toward Kaija, and it was enough to snap him back into action. He reached Kaija’s side, wrapping his arms around her protectively, though she squirmed to be let go, like she had when she had first started walking.

Then, the rocks exploded into the air. Rikkar hid his face, hoisted his daughter over his shoulder, and tried to run.

“Papa, stop! Put me down!” Kaija was still stubbornly squirming, trying to get out of his tight grip. 

Then, just what he least expected. “Rikkar, stop running!” Johánná’s voice rang clearly from the wagon, and he froze in his tracks. He could hear more rumbling, feel it in the ground, and another odd sound he could swear was the shuffling of feet and murmuring of voices.

Then, a grizzled voice saying, “You must be Kaija.”

Rikkar’s shock allowed Kaija to slip free, and he opened his eyes to see what she could.

Trolls. Dozens and dozens, maybe hundreds of rock trolls. And they seemed happy to see their little party. They were smiling, anyway. Maybe they were hungry.

His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, feet buried in the ground, as, somewhere between disbelief and horror, he watched his wife laughing delightedly as she hopped down lightly to see the spectacle.

“Jo, don’t—”

“She’s quite safe, Rikkar, I can assure you.” The grizzled voice again, and now he could see where it came from.

The troll that spoke, the one that was closest to his daughter, had an old look about him. Long grass grew around his face, the mossy brows bushier than the others around him. Glowing crystals hung around many necks, but this troll had the most. They glowed an ethereal yellow, lighting his grizzled, stony face.

“I thought this was a dream,” Kaija said again, staring down at the troll in wonder. “I suppose I should know better.”

“Seeing,” the old troll said, “does not always allow one to believe, Kaija. You must believe. I could not see you, yet I know you are real.”

Kaija frowned. Rikkar frowned. Johánná was delightedly hoisting a tiny troll up into her arms, giggling softly.

“I know who you run from, but I do not know why. And that, I only know from being told. Seers are harder to see, you see.” A smile pulled at the old troll’s face. Kaija raised an eyebrow, and the troll laughed. “I see it now,” he said, gesturing to the expression. “I will keep your secret, never you fear, child. For while I do not understand it, it is not my secret to tell.”

“What secret?” Rikkar finally found his voice.

Kaija was frowning again, ignoring the question. “How do you know?” She looked suspicious. “You say you can’t see a seer. How do I know you’re not making something up?”

“Ah, but you can see me, Kaija.” The old troll chuckled, secure in his wisdom. “He searches for you.”

Something in Kaija’s whole body changed. Her face and shoulders fell and tears filled her eyes. Her breath was shuddering as she inhaled, trying visibly to remain calm, and Rikkar felt his heart break. Whatever secret the troll spoke of, it was the same one which Kaija kept to herself.

“How do you know?” Kaija sounded disbelieving.

“He asked me to look for you.” The troll shook his head sadly. “I told him, as I’ve told you, seers are tricky. I never could find you, and neither will he. You must find him, Kaija.” 

“But I can’t.” Words were tumbling now out of his daughter, and he watched in disbelief. Johánná was watching now, too, having stepped closer with her gaggle of new friends, who ran their fingers over the wool and leather of her clothes with gentle admiration.

“Any why is that?”

“I have to find the woods. I keep seeing the woods, and that’s where I need to go. There’s some connection I can’t see, but I know I need to find the woods.”

“The woods are just over that ridge, child.”

“Not those woods.” Kaija sighed, and the far away look came over her face again. “They’re somewhere. It feels so far away, but there’s something in those woods—someone. I have to go there.”

The troll nodded slowly, appearing to be considering her words. Finally, he said, “The woods you seek are far from here, child. As far north as you can go. You must go through the mountain passes, through the fields, and there, you will find the woods you seek.”

Kaija stared. Rikkard stared.

Johánná had sat down on the ground to admire the red gems of what appeared to be a female. Honestly, nothing bothered the woman. Her fearlessness was part of why he had married her. Rikkar almost smiled.

Kaija spoke again. “How do you know—”

“There is only one enchanted forest in this part of the world, child. That is where you must go.”

“Enchanted—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Jo interrupted whatever Kaija had been about to say, and her voice sounded like she’d had some sort of epiphany. She was on her feet, long blonde braid low enough for her troll friend to stroke delicately. “We’ve been too far south this entire time.” She shook her head, stepping toward her daughter and the old troll. “But no one can go there,” she said, addressing the old troll, and Rikkard stared at his wife as if she’d grown another head. “My mother told me the story. She had a cousin who married into the tribe, one she never saw after.”

He was surrounded by trolls, and his wife was talking about an enchanted forest. Nothing made sense anymore. Kaija was the only one of the three of them who did not look confused.

The old troll considered Johánná. “I see it in you, too.”

Johánná gave him a confused look. “See what?” Kaija and the old troll exchanged a look, and Johánná raised her brows. “See what, daughter of mine?”

“What you, too, will see, in its time.” Johánná huffed a frustrated sigh at the old troll, and the female troll she had been sitting with laughed with delight.

“Oh, I can see it, too!”

“See what?”

“Not our secret to tell,” the old troll reminded the red gemmed female. “She will find out in time.”

There was a pause before Kaija asked, “Is he well?”

Who the hell was she talking about?

  
Her face crumpled when the old troll said softly, “He does not sleep so well, these days. He dwells on his bitter thoughts when he should be resting. But I know him well. He will forgive you.” Reaching out, the old troll patted her hand, and her face relaxed a bit when he said, “You can hold me to that.”

“This is ridiculous.” Rikkar turned, stomping irritatedly toward the wagon, and heard the female troll laughing again. When he turned to scowl at her, she only laughed harder.

“Oh, him, too! Look how grumpy he is!”

When he glanced back to see if the women were following, Kaija was smiling, and for the first time in two years, Rikkar saw hope in her eyes.

Johánná was turning back toward him as well, waving farewell to her new friends. Kaija rushed to catch up with her mother, waving to the old troll. Loud voices rang out with goodbyes all around them as Rikkar set Nils to walking.

And after a while, when it was quiet again and they were on the road north, Johánná finally said, “Let me tell you an old story my mother told me.”

Nils drew himself up with determination, and Rikkar knew they shared the same thought.

There would be little rest until they finally found Kaija’s enchanted woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay healthy, stay happy, keep love in your heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a computer again! Happy day! Finally putting that stimulus money to work.
> 
> This went looooooong, but I couldn’t really find a way to split it into even chapters. Oh, well. I blame the smut. That, and my tendency to ramble coupled with my sheer boredom as the longest summer of my life continues on… 
> 
> Again, this chapter is not meant to be read in your office, or wherever you may find yourself working, at the moment. It’s got some smut. There are also some vague depictions of abuse against a child here, violent childbirth, and near death experiences. There are also quite a few flashbacks in this chapter. 

Anna peeled herself off the seat, exhausted, barely able to keep her eyes open.

The day had been a long one, ending in a fruitless discovery. Yes, they’d seen family traveling alone up on the ridge. They had just made out two women with fair hair that had shown in the sun, and a large, dark haired man. But they hadn’t spoken, hadn’t exchanged greetings, and had disappeared.

At least, she supposed, it was further validation that they were out there somewhere.

Kristoff was unusually quiet, even for him, as he trudged into the stable outside the small cabin he kept in the woods. It was usually a place for him to crash out for a night of sleep, a safe harbor when weather threatened to swallow a man whole. But sometimes, it was a safe harbor for  _ them.  _ It was miles from anyone and so peaceful, the only sounds often birds and the gentle rustle of a nearby stream.

Like tonight.

While he saw to Sven, making sure his friend was fed, watered, and comfortable, she managed to drag herself to the woodpile, gathering up a few logs and carrying them inside.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold, the stress of the day evaporated. It smelled like timber and wood smoke and  _ Kristoff. _

Dropping the wood next to the small stone fireplace, she knelt, searching in her bag until she found first the flint, then the steel in another pocket. Pulling them out, she set to work starting a fire. She’d need to get down to the creek, too, to fetch water, unless he already had.

As if reading her mind, he stepped inside a few minutes later, once she’d started up a strong fire, holding up a bucket. He smiled fondly at the sight of her on her knees, warming her hands. He put the bucket on the bench by the door, then began stripping off his layers.

“So, that’s that,” he said, dropping his tunic unceremoniously on the floor. “No more. She has to come to me.”

“And if we find out she’s just up the road somewhere?” Anna rose to her feet, stepping closer to him as his sweater went next.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He frowned. He was down to his shirt now, and Anna reached for his hands.

“Hey.” She kissed his palm, wanting more than anything to get rid of the lines in his face. “Crazier things have happened.”

A small, humourless laugh burst out of him at this, but then his face finally softened. “Yeah.” He brought his free hand up to cradle her face. “Crazier things have happened.” His shoulders were sagged again, as if he were Atlas, trying to hold up the world. “I mean it, though, I’m done.”

“Well,” Anna said, a hint of challenge in her voice, “maybe I’m not. Not if something falls in our laps, anyway. Just because you’re so stubborn—”

“ _ I’m  _ stubborn?”

She poked his chest jokingly. “Stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“And you would know.”

He grinned, bringing their joined hands to his side and dropping the other from where he was playing with her hair. “Come on. Bed.”

Anna had stripped herself down to just her corset and chemise by the time he was out of his own clothes. Turning, she wordlessly offered her back, feeling the warmth in the air as he stepped closer, reaching up to undo the ties. She sighed with relief as she was released from the stays. She knew she could have done it herself, but she knew he would follow with pushing down the rest of her clothing, finding the angry red marks the loosely tied corset nevertheless left behind with his lips.

Craning her head around, she watched as he knelt, the motion bringing him face level with her lower and middle back. Warm fingers traced the indents in her skin, followed by soft lips kissing away any lingering discomfort. She couldn’t stop her eyelids fluttering when his fingers shifted, wrapping around her hips from behind and pulling her closer to him.

She thanked God every day for giving her a husband who was a  _ man. _ His body engulfed hers as he rose to his feet, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. His hands had slid forward and spanned themselves across her abdomen, curling his thumbs around her waist. Solid muscle supported her as she pressed herself back, feeling his heartbeat under her ears, feeling his strengthening erection against her back.

Slowly, lips hot on her neck, he guided her toward the bed. Reaching down, she pulled back the old quilt, easing herself down onto the bed. He was situated behind her a minute later, hands tugging up blankets over their waists, one thick leg wrapping around her body and pulling her back.

It had been weeks since either of them had been lucid around each other in the darkness of their bedchamber to do much more than fall asleep in the other’s arms, and Anna worked harder than usual to keep herself awake.

But her eyelids were heavy, and the heat of the fire and the heat of the man behind her, wrapped around her like a second skin, were making her sleepy.

He chuckled softly, easing away from her slightly, but she groaned and pushed herself harder against him. “I’m awake,” she mumbled, “I promise.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Kristoff had never been easily fooled. He knew her insatiability far outweighed her desire for sleep on the best of days. “It’s all fun and games until you’re snoring.”

“In the morning, then.” She wrapped his arm around her more tightly.

“Don’t you need to get back?”

“I told Elsa we might be a few days.” Anna grinned, almost hearing his eyebrows shoot up. “She doesn’t know how close to home we are.”

“You  _ lied _ to your sister?” 

“Just a little.”

He tsked behind her. “I can’t believe you, Anna. I’m so disappointed.” But she laughed, because his voice was anything but, and she let herself drift off to sleep, pleased at the prospect of another day and night alone with her husband.

She woke in sunlight, knowing somehow that it was still early, shifting to a more comfortable position, now that her second skin was no longer wrapped around her.

Glancing over a pillow with one open eye, she saw Kristoff, hands behind his head, eyes vacant as he stared at the wood ceiling.

“Honey,” she murmured, sitting herself up and blinking awake in the early light. “Did you sleep at all?” She knew he lay awake on as many nights as he slept, napping between his broods.

“A little.” He frowned. “Then the sun came up.”

Reaching a hand out, she rubbed softly at his chest. “You have to sleep, Kristoff.” She’d been saying the same thing for two years. “There’s nothing more you can do than what you’re doing.”

“I know.” He sighed heavily. “I just keep thinking, what if—”

“Stop.” She rolled on top of him, putting one of her hands over his mouth. He rolled his eyes, but she felt his smile against her palm. “You’re not going down that road tonight. Or, this morning.” She blinked, grimacing slightly at the light that filtered in from one of the two windows. “What time do you think it is?”

“Four or five?”

“Oh, God.” She groaned against his throat. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Easier said than done.” His hands were trailing up and down her spine, and she was suddenly very aware that they had tumbled into bed without dressing the night before.

“Want some help?” She shifted her hips against him, smiling when she felt him stirring between her thighs.

“You don’t want to go back to sleep?”

“Eventually,” she mused, “but not necessarily right now.” She pressed her lips against his Adam’s apple, nuzzled softly at his chin. “How often are we completely alone like this?” His laughter rumbled through his chest at that. “I wouldn’t mind taking advantage.”

He hummed softly. “It’s been a little while,” he said, a twinge of regret evident in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she murmured, pulling back to look at his face. “I know it’s not lack of interest.” 

He laughed outright at that. “Definitely not that.” She giggled when he carefully slid out from under her, leaving her on her stomach. Kristoff’s warm fingers brushed away the hair from the nape of her neck, and he rested his lips there. A soft sigh slipped her lips at the gentle touch. The arousal that had started brewing the night was coming back full force now, and Anna could feel the heat rising between her legs.

“Never that,” he was saying softly, lips trailing over her shoulders now as he no doubt found all his favorite freckles again. She had been a little self conscious of them as a child, knowing they didn’t fit in with the fair haired, clear skinned girls in pictures, but that feeling had vanished years ago. Kristoff seemed to love them, find fascination in them, as he did now. They led him down her spine, all the way to the curve of her ass. His fingers had trailed behind his lips, but they now continued the voyage, sliding over her backside and down over the backs of her thighs.

A strong knee slid between hers and she let her legs spread under him. The tips of his fingers brushed her opening, making her shudder, and he chuckled against her back. She felt him lift slightly, lips trailing a line of kisses up her back as she arched against the bed. His hands left her apex, making her whine softly. He laughed again at her reaction.

“Turn over, baby,” he whispered, breath hot against her when he sighed at the shifting of her hips while she ground against him. “I wanna see you.”

Mindful that the bed they currently occupied was much smaller than the one they were used to, she rolled carefully onto her back.

For the first time in a month, he didn’t look quite so tired or weary. His eyes were warm and bright as they gazed appreciatively down at her. His face wore a real smile, one that reached from ear to ear and into his eyes. They stayed locked on hers as he burned a slow, fiery trail down her body with his lips and tongue. She was squirming helplessly under his attention, and she was starting to feel like she was coming out of her skin when he pressed a soft kiss against her lower lips.

“Come on,” she groaned, wrapping her fingers in his hair to try to bring him in closer.

Kristoff laughed, pulling away to rest his chin against her pelvis. “Do you have a patient bone in your body?” 

“Definitely not right now.” She noticed that the more she tried to move against him, the harder her body pressed into the bed with the increase in pressure from his legs and torso. “Not fair, and you know it.”

“I haven’t had you in weeks, Anna.” His voice and face were suddenly serious, but his eyes gave him away. “Do you have any idea what that does to a man. And not just any man, but  _ me?  _ I married the most beautiful girl in the whole world, and I haven’t been inside you in weeks, haven’t  _ tasted _ you.” She whimpered as he pressed a soft kiss to her pelvis. “Do you know how many nights I lay awake thinking about you? How I would think about you—the way you smell, the way you look in the morning, the way you sound, and God, the way you taste.” 

Cocking her head off to one side, Anna decided to call his bluff, knowing he was just as ready as she was. “I can imagine. I’ve had my own fair share of lonely nights with no one to tend to me.” She sighed heavily, leaning back against the pillows, fingers slowly trailing up over her ribs to her breast. “So many baths, just like this.” She felt him gulp against her skin, and she worked to keep the smile from her face. “I could always make myself come, but I never felt fully,” she gasped, tweaking the nipple as she watched his eyes darken, “satisfied.” She let her other hand release his hair and weave its way between their bodies, finding the place he had been teasing moments before.

Then, she gave it one final, parting shot. “Doesn’t matter how many fingers I use, it never feels right.” She rolled her clit between her fingers, aware as her eyes fluttered that he was lifting off of her, watching intently as she played with herself. “I can’t quite get the girth right, and I definitely can’t get the length.” She forced herself to open her eyes, smirking at him. “Think you can help me out with that?”

“Jesus,  _ Anna.”  _ He looked a little wild, kneeling over her with his hair a disaster from his earlier attempts at sleep as well as her fingers further mussing it. Then, mercifully, he slid two long, thick fingers into her and she sighed with relief. He hissed, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. “God, baby, you’re tight.”

“Well, I haven't been properly stretched in a while.”

His fingers curled, forcing her eyes closed again as she cried out into the empty space around them. “Then we should probably get you stretched out properly again, shouldn’t we?”

His fingers were pulling away and she pried her eyes open to watch him use the gathered moisture to lubricate the erection that jutted proudly up between them. She pulled away her hand, wanting just to feel  _ him,  _ and nothing else. One wrapped around a strong bicep, the other draping over his shoulders.

He was gentle but swift in sliding into her after that. Her breath left her in a rush, whooshing out of her lungs from something akin to relief. Anna could feel her nails digging into Kristoff’s arm as he suspended himself, motionless above her for a few long moments.

Then he laughed weakly. “I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” he admitted, his voice tight under the strain. “You’re so tight right now, baby, I just…”

She pressed her lips against his temple. “You think you’ve got two rounds in you?”

Kristoff laughed again, and his voice was still breathless when he spoke. “Pretty sure, yeah. If you do.”

“Oh, I’ve got two rounds in me.” And she did. Now that she was going, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop. “It’s okay, honey.”

“God, I love you.” He almost sounded like he could cry. One of his hands slid between their bodies, somehow finding room, to find her clit again. The first thrust of his hips brought with it a pinch to see clit, and she yelped. He paused, concerned.

“I swear to God,” she said, her voice coming out in a growl, “if you stop, I will give you the worst blue balls of your—oh!”

It was fast after that, messy. Despite the brevity of the initial act, they were both dripping with sweat, and she could feel it when their thighs rubbed together with their frantic coupling. It was dirty and quick and almost rough, and she flew over the edge in what couldn’t have been more than four or five minutes, feeling him follow her immediately. 

For some amount of time, she lay panting on the bed next to him, pressed against him in the close confines of the bed. She watched through the window as the sky darkened again.

“I think it’s going to rain,” she mused, shifting to rest against his chest.

“Hmm?” Kristoff’s eyes opened to follow her gaze. “Well, look at that. Guess that means we’re stuck here.”

Anna smiled. “Poor us.”

“You’re gonna get more than you bargained for,” Kristoff said, his voice only a little teasing.

“I think I’ll be just fine.” She raked her fingernails softly over his chest.

Then he was flipping her over onto her back, making his way back down between her legs. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he promised.

She managed to catch a quick glimpse of him, eyes zeroed in on the juncture of her thighs, before his mouth was on her. After that, she couldn’t see anything but stars as he went at her like a dying, starving, parched man. Her legs were over his shoulders almost immediately, and she felt her mouth hanging open, alternately gasping and releasing a litany of sounds she seemed to have no control over. She didn’t bother to stop them—there was no one for miles. Not a soul would hear them out here, save the animals of the woods around them. 

The prospect had Anna vaguely wondering if this was going to be one of those truly amazing trips where neither of them wore a stitch of clothing for days.

But her mind was distracted with the release he gave her. She forced her eyes open as he worked her through it, lips and tongue and fingers slowing slightly but not stopping. He had warned her, she thought vaguely.

It was the last conscious thought she had for a while.

The next thing she knew, it was raining and she was coming down from a high plateau of pleasure, seeing the smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes. She felt drunk as she tried to focus on him, the image a little blurry, but she could see that he looked almost smug, could hear the rain pounding against the roof.

She blinked. “When did it start raining?”

He laughed outright at this, and she felt her heart swell. All she wanted was for  _ this _ to be normal again. His smiles and laughter, teasing, light banter, all unrestrained by his stress.

“A while ago,” he admitted, pressing a soft kiss just above her belly button. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Mmmm.” She brushed his hair back from his face, taking in his swollen lips and red face. “I was distracted.”

“My way of saying how sorry I am,” he explained, lifting slightly to climb back up over her, trailing kisses up the center of her chest as he went, “for neglecting my duties.”

“I would say you have nothing to be sorry for, but I like your style of apologizing, so I guess you’re forgiven.” A little giggle bubbled from Anna’s lips as he worked on her neck.

“Thank you.”

Reaching down between his legs, she felt his strong erection, wrapping her fingers around him and savoring the way he groaned, almost whined, against her neck. “Your turn,” she murmured. “Lay on your back?”

Anna wasn’t sure she could handle taking him inside her just then, sensitive as she had become under his ministrations, but it wouldn’t stop her from giving him pleasure.

“You don’t have to,” he tried to argue, but he was easy to push over and coax into a partially reclined position. His hands found purchase in her hair as she shimmied down his body, grinning from ear to ear.

“I know,” she said, reaching her destination and giving the tip of his cock a flick with her tongue. Another of those whining groans, the ones she was fondest of, met her ears and she watched his face screw up against the sensation.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He was trying to sound light and teasing, but she heard the strain in his voice.

“Maybe.” She gave him another lick, this one longer, going from base to tip. “But I do have an awful lot to be thankful for.”

Anna had made it her mission during the first year of their marriage to learn how to take her husband fully into her mouth. It never stopped being challenging, and was something she wasn’t always able to do, still frequently using her hands to work that which her mouth couldn’t cover, but this morning, she was so relaxed it was almost easy.

Relaxing her jaw and throat, breathing carefully through her nose, Anna took the entirety of her husband’s sizable erection into her mouth. Slowly, carefully, she let it slide in and out of her mouth while she gently bobbed her head, his hands soft against her hair, never pushing or even guiding. She was so wrapped up in her motions that she almost forgot her favorite part.

Kristoff’s face was permanently burned into her memory, and she would have known what expressions he was making without looking, but looking was  _ so _ fun. Knowing that she had the ability to make his mouth hang open, his eyes roll back and his lashes flutter, made her feel more powerful than any royal title ever could. He could lift large chunks of ice and hoist both of their children into the air with ease, had an unusually high pain tolerance for a man, but the minute his cock was in her mouth, he weakened and melted until he was a malleable mountain of flesh under her touch.

“Oh, God.” The words were long and drawn out. “Fuck, Anna, you look…” 

Anna knew what she looked like, had seen it before when he’d insisted once on fucking her in front of a mirror. She knew her face was still red, eyes bright and blown. She knew her ass was jutting up into the air, back arched as she worked between his parted thighs. She could feel saliva dripping down from her mouth, coating her chin and his cock. She pulled away slowly, needing to breathe, watching as a long string of it kept him connected to her bottom lip. Working with the wet slick she’d left behind, Anna wrapped her hand around him, her thumb working over the tip.

She knew he was close. So much time spent between her legs had left him solid and weeping, veins popping more than usual with his arousal. His head was tossing against the wall behind the bed, eyes closed as he tried to contain himself, then open again to survey her.

Keeping her gaze locked on his, she let her fingers wrap around his base again as she more quickly took him into her mouth, sucking hard and hollowing her cheeks with each upward motion, tongue drawing random patterns around him on her way down. His thighs were shaking under her hands, and she knew he would be trying to warn her off in a moment, never wanting to assume it was alright to come in her mouth.

Releasing him again, she softened her eyes as she said, “We’ve got all day.” Then she curled her lips into a devilish smile and added, “All night, too. And tomorrow. So come on.” She tongued him again briefly before saying, “You got to taste me, now I want to taste you.”

This time, when she took him in again, he finally let go.

* * *

Kaija had believed all her life in myths and legends. She  _ was _ such a myth, such a legend.

Belief, though, did not always imply understanding.

She could see massive stone monoliths over the edge of the wagon, but she was unable to move. Never had she felt so exhausted, like she had lived two decades in as many days. She somehow knew it meant she was getting closer, but that knowledge did nothing to stem the constant flow.

“Kaija?” Her mother’s voice was soft in her ear. “Talk to me, my lamb.” Gentle fingers stroked her hair. She could barely keep her eyes open.

The trees were so beautiful, this  _ had _ to be it.

But it didn’t stay in her sight for long, and her eyes closed again.

_ The fire raged. Her parents screamed. Her mother begged her brother to run, and his little legs carried him to what must have been safety. _

_ The woods were cold, but he kept running. He ran until he couldn’t hear voices anymore, until it was quiet, and then, he finally stopped. He was shivering in the cold, his breath coming out in puffs of steam. There was no one around. He kept walking.  _

_ There was a cave. It was empty. It was a place to hide, and Kristoff reached into his pocket—his pockets were always full of treasures—and found flint and steel. A fire was built, and it was warm again. _

_ And Kristoff slept for a long time. _

_ It took two days to circle back to the place where they had been. There were charred remains of their  _ lavvu, _ those of others. But no one was here. _

_ No one living, anyway. There were a few makeshift, unmarked graves at the edge of the site, but they scared him too much for him to get close.  _

_ So the little boy salvaged what he could—it wasn’t much, and nothing to eat—and just kept walking. _

_ And walking. _

_ And walking. _

_ Walking until his feet were aching, until he found the edge of a town…  _

_ Something to eat, finally, but the woman who offered it was cruel…  _

_ Running and running and running. His feet ached, but he ran, anyway…  _

_ A woman, fury in her face, raising a belt that was going to keep coming over and over if he couldn’t  _ run…  __

_ Falling into frigid water, feeling the reindeer’s teeth catching onto the back of his tunic and pulling him free…  _

_ The Queen (but she wasn’t the queen yet, looked too young in her face, though her hair was white) taking slow steps toward a man and a woman, the most terrified feeling ripping through her heart…  _

_ Anna again, but this time she was running across the crumbling structure of a dam…  _

  
  


“Kaija, my love, come back…”

  
  


_ Anna’s face, crumbling when he told her he was leaving again. Tears rolling down her cheeks and garbled words of understanding, but pain ripped her in half too viciously to discern anything being said… _

  
  


“Is she alright?” That voice. She  _ knew _ that voice.

“Get out of my way.” A woman.

Then under again.

  
  


_ Blood was everywhere.  _ Everywhere. _ Kaija knew she had never seen so much blood. _

_ Anna was there again, in a bed this time. She was as white as the sheets and Kristoff was sobbing against her shoulder. He was younger than when she’d met him, she suspected. Without the beard, he still looked almost boyish. _

_ “Wake up, baby, wake up, please…” _

  
  


“Wake up, baby girl.” Gentle fingers in her hair. Her mother, she recognized.

  
  


_ “Wake up, Anna. I need you to wake up, baby, I can’t do this by myself.” _

_ Fluttering blue eyes managed to open, a small smile on her lips… _

  
  


“There’s no waking her. Whatever has hold over her, it’s too strong now. Bring her this way, I will see what I can do.” The brusque woman from before.

  
  


_ “Why haven’t you told them?” Ryder. The man. The one she would love someday. _

_ “Because I wasn't supposed to! I can’t tell you why—” _

_ “Because you saw it, I know. Kaija, I don’t understand—” _

_ “What’s not to understand? I can’t tell you why I couldn’t tell them the truth.” _

_ “Would you have met me? If you told them, I mean.” _

_ “I don’t know.” _

Then it was gone, and everything was finally quiet.

When Kaija finally found the strength to open her eyes, she started at the sight of an older woman sitting at her side. Her hair was white, mostly free down her back, but a single thin braid came over her left shoulder. Warm brown eyes gazed from the gently weathered face, and she reached out, a cool cloth in her hand.

“There now, child.” Kaija whined softly, turning into the cool touch. She realized she was sweating, hot to the touch. How long had she been under?

The woman smiled, and Kaija realized she’d spoken aloud. “Nearly a day now,” she said. “You’ve been fitful for much of it, but your mother and father say you have not slept so long in years. It’s a burden, for one so young.”

Kaija realized this woman  _ knew. _ Blinking, she tried to push herself up, managing to make it to her elbows. “Where are my parents?”

Then the old woman was gone. Kaija blinked around. She was in a  _ lavvu _ , like the ones she’d seen in her dreams, like the one her father carried. She was on a comfortable bed of furs, a warm fire burning in the center of the space.

Then the stranger was back, this time with her mother. Johánná reached for Kaija, tears in her eyes, and Kaija leaned into the embrace.

“Oh, my love,” she murmured. “My poor lamb. Do you feel rested?”

“I don’t know.” Kaija shook her head. “Where am I?”

The old woman raised her eyebrows. “Very far north, child. But if what your mother has told me rings true, you’re precisely where you wanted to be. Very fortunate for you, really. It’s only been a few years since we were freed.”

Kaija remembered her mother's story about an enchanted forest and a magical mist that allowed no one in or out. She trusted the trolls, Johánná had explained. If they said it was broken, it must be. They were trolls, after all, and kind ones. Nevermind how she knew, she just knew, like she always did. And she had directed Rikkard north while Kaija was immersed in her visions.

The worst, because they weren’t even hers. They weren’t visions of anything she could fix or change. They were flashbacks, different than the one she’d had before.

The flashbacks were her brother’s memories, she’d realized. Why was she suddenly now seeing every terrible thing that had happened to him? Had  _ nothing _ happy ever happened to him?

But he  _ was _ happy. She’d seen that, too, in other visions that came more gently, more usually, more like dreams than viewings that jarred her from consciousness with their desperation. He was happy with his beautiful wife, the two little children who she had learned to love, though she’d never met them. There were others, but their faces were a blur.

Kaija took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “I need to get up,” she said, grimacing as she stretched her muscles. “I need air.”

Her mother laughed. “Two years of air, and she’s still not had enough.”

Kaija managed to grin at this. “I’ll never have enough.”

They made their way toward the opening, and Kaija stepped out into her dream. Her eyes widened as she took it in. There was an otherworldly beauty in the simplicity around her, something in the air. If a single word of what her mother had said was true, this place was magical.

Then, from somewhere near her knees, she heard a voice. “Oooooh, good, you’re alive! I was so worried you would never wake up. That almost happened to my friends once. Or twice? Is twice if it’s two different people, or once if it just happened to both of the one time? Or three times, because I died, too? Wow, that’s a kind of profound thought, don’t you think?” Kaija turned, saw no one right away, then looked down in shock. “I’ll have to ask Elsa what she thinks when she comes back. She  _ made _ me.” The voice of the creature in front of her was fond. “Oh, my gosh, I’m being so  _ rude! _ Let me start over.” The creature—was it a fucking snowman?—cleared its throat. “Hi, I’m Olaf, and I like warm hugs!” It—he?—held out the sticks that were its arms, and gestured expectantly at her.

“Olaf, this is Kaija.” The old woman gave Olaf a long look. “You remember, the one we spoke about.”

“Ooooooooh,” the snowman said, as if comprehending some great thing. “Right. Got it. Say no more!” He gave a wave, and trotted away on the snowballs that were his feet. “Nice to meet you, Kaija! Yelena and Elsa said I’m not allowed to talk to you, so—hey!” The old woman had thrown the wet cloth in her hands. “Sorry! Bye!”

It was quiet for a long moment before anyone spoke again.

“You get used to him.” The voice was new to the conversation, but old to Kaija. She froze, eyes still gazing absently. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—is she gonna—”

“I’m fine.” Kaija waved an absent hand and forced herself to turn around.

Her visions hadn’t done him justice. He was older than her, she could now see clearly. Her brother’s age, or close to it. His eyes were bluer than she remembered, but reality was always clearer when she was finally faced with it. It was impossible to look away from the boyishly handsome face, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He was still talking.

“I was just coming back, you know, had to check on Nils and the others, because—”

“Ryder, the girl just woke up.” The old woman rolled her eyes. “ _ Try _ not to overwhelm the poor thing right away.”

“Right. Sorry.” He was holding a pot in his hands. “And I brought those herbs you asked for, you know, to try to help—”

“Ryder!”

“Sorry.” He sounded sheepish. “Here you go—oh, no!”

Kaija’s hands were faster than his. She smiled. She had seen his clumsiness, almost like he was stuck in his teenage years, despite being a grown man.

“Thank you, Kaija.” The old woman raised her eyebrows at Ryder, then she sighed, giving him an exasperated look. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Keep me around, because I’m great with reindeer?”

“Better than you are with most people,” the old woman muttered.

But Kaija’s eyes were still glued to Ryder’s face. There was a boyish quality about him, something in his smile that made him warm and inviting. His blue eyes were embarrassed as he stared at his feet for a moment, then finally back up to her. Caught, Kaija worked to look anywhere else, but the old woman was pulling her mother over to a low table, showing her whatever was in the pot.

“Sorry again about that.” Ryder’s voice was hesitant, as were his eyes. She  _ had _ to stop staring. It was rude to stare at strangers.

But he wasn’t a stranger to her.

He had continued talking, oblivious to the inner workings of her mind, only seeing her blank, smiling stare. “I brought Yelena some herbs,” he explained. “She said they might help with, you know,” he gestured wordlessly at her for a moment. “We saw you outside the forest. Nobody usually comes up here, and we wondered who you were. I mean, you just kept collapsing and waking up, but Yelena knows magic when she sees it.” He smiled and shrugged awkwardly. “That was when your mother said you were a seer.”

“We’ve been looking for this place,” she said, forgetting for a moment that she had only really just met him a few minutes ago. He had certainly never met her before. “Two years, almost.”

“Yeah, I—” He stopped suddenly, face going red. “That’s what your parents said. And I guess Yelena thought they seemed trustworthy, so we brought you here.”

Kaija raised an eyebrow. “Is that true?”

“Of course,” he spluttered, “why would it not be? And we couldn’t just leave you there, and…” He trailed off, seeming unsure if speaking was even a good idea at this point.

But Kaija laughed. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“I’m just not good with people,” he muttered. “ _ Really _ not good with women.” She sniggered as his face flushed. “I’m not!”

Kaija had two choices. She could act like she believed him, like she knew nothing about him, and hope her visions didn’t take too long to come true. Or, she could be honest.

“Doesn’t help you keep staring at me!” His arms were crossed now, and she blinked. He cast a glance toward the old woman, Yelena, and her mother. They were absorbed in their remedies. “You know, some people say it’s rude to stare.”

She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it go again. “You’re not a good liar, because you’re too honest to be any good at it. I don’t know why you’re not good with women, but I think you’ll be fine with me.” He raised his eyebrows, but she continued. “And it’s not that you aren’t good with people, you just haven’t spent much time with them.” She gave him a small, sheepish smile. “Do you believe in coincidences, Ryder?”

“No.” There was no hesitation, and the blood began to creep away from his face. “I mean, I guess they’re possible, but I don’t think any of my life happened the way it did because of a coincidence. I grew up in a place that nature kept us from leaving. Doesn’t get much crazier than that.” He was easier now, talking about things he knew.

“So, finding my family—you, specifically—couldn't be a coincidence. You were there when we arrived, I remember hearing your voice.”

“I…” His arms relaxed, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking perplexed. “I guess not,” he said slowly.

“This is no coincidence,” she said, wanting so much to take a step or two closer, but staying in her place. “I’ve seen this forest. I’ve seen  _ you.” _

“Me?” He sounded disbelieving.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Unless you have a twin.”

“I have a sister, but she’s older.”

“So yes, you.”

“Wow.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Nils emerge from the trees, tongue lolling as he pranced closer.

She giggled as he licked her hand, reaching up to scratch behind his ears like a damned dog. He almost seemed to be smiling, and then—

“I missed you, Kaija. I love you  _ so _ much!”

Kaija cast her eyes around for her father, but he was nowhere in sight. Confused, she looked back at Ryder, who was sharing some sort of look with Nils.

“She’s okay, buddy, she’s up and about.”

“Oh, thank  _ goodness!” _ It was  _ Ryder _ making that voice. Kaija bit her lips both from shock and a desire to burst out laughing. “I just  _ love _ Kaija!”

Then Ryder was laughing, looking sheepish again, shaking his head. “Sorry. Can’t help it. I just, you know…” He shrugged.

“You talk for them.” She smiled. “Like my father does.”

“Rikkar does it  _ too?” _ Oh, dear, maybe she shouldn’t have told him. “Oh, that’s awesome! Now I’m not the only one! Well, I’m  _ not _ the only one, but I’ve only ever met one other person that does it.”

“That’s one more than I’ve ever met. Who was it?”

“He’s…” Ryder was red in the face again, and Kaija cocked her head. “Nobody, just this guy I know.”

“Liar,” she said softly.

Ryder sighed heavily. “Look, I’m sure you have secrets.” Oh, did she. She nodded. “So we’ve got a few, too. You just got here, we  _ just _ met you, so I’ve just gotta keep this one to myself.” He suddenly looked sad. “I hope you understand someday.”

Kaija couldn’t challenge him, not when she somehow knew he was right.

The day passed in a flurry of activity. There were people to meet, meals to be prepared, settling in to do, and Kaija could feel her exhausted head spinning by the end of it.

Maybe it was the exhaustion of finally reaching her goal, or of meeting so many new people in one go, or of finally finding the man she was already falling for and realizing that they were like the opposing poles of a magnet, but that night, Kaija fell asleep without the force of visions, and woke the same way, for the first time in years.

She sat up, cursing her altered sleep cycle as she did so, glancing around the curved leather walls. Her father had been allowed to set up their own home, and she slept there now, her parents dozing against an opposite wall.

They were fast asleep, and she was wide awake.

Stepping out of the  _ lavvu, _ she stretched her arms over her head. It was the second sleep she’d managed to have, and she wondered why the flashbacks were suddenly abating. 

She also wondered about the feeling of defeatism that came with it. She had only had one, a quicker flash that didn’t last, before managing to return to a deep, easy sleep.

Looking around, she marveled at how far north she was—she’d never been up this far. It was where it never truly got dark during the spring, where she knew the sun would stay over the horizon through the summer. She couldn’t see the sun, not sure it was even risen yet with all the trees, but she suspected it was that odd, extended twilight that surrounded her now.

She didn’t know what time it was. She didn’t really care anymore.

“Hey.” A whisper carried across the quiet camp, and her head turned in its direction. Her stomach flipped at the warm smile he offered. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I think I’ve finally had enough.” Quietly, she reached back inside, snatching her scarf from inside the opening before crossing to stand at his side. The draw to be near him was already so powerful, it was almost frightening. 

She had spoken to him for a long time during the dinner that had been put before them, warm and welcoming for her first night among the Northuldra, the conversation easy between them. He hadn’t spoken any more about her secrets, but he did have plenty to tell her about her surroundings. His style of rambling told her he was unused to speaking to anyone who wasn’t a lifelong acquaintance, and he lacked a certain shyness that she had grown as a child. He sometimes gave too much information, going on about reindeer poop and its uses for several minutes before a woman, his sister, she quickly learned, gave him a forcible shove that sent him off the back of his log. 

But he made her laugh, made her feel lighter than she’d felt in years. He was kind and warm, and they took to each other almost instantly. It was like she was a puzzle, almost completed but for one piece, one that was missing from the beginning, one that had always seemed out of reach. 

Talking to Ryder was as easy as talking to her parents. Never before had she so quickly felt understood as she did with him. He had grown up in a place where magic was visible every day, and treated her as if she were completely ordinary. He never pressed about her visions, rarely brought it up, and treated it already as a part of her of which he was unafraid.

And oddly, she felt more at home here, even after only a day, in this magical place with its wind that toyed with her braid, almost like a child. Ryder had laughed at that, saying that the wind spirit seemed to like her, the tips of his ears reddening as he said it. Her mother seemed to notice, smiling secretly across the fire. Kaija had blushed, but said nothing.

She knew he liked her, knew he was interested already. She could never have imagined, even though she had seen him, how easy it would be, how the chemistry between them had materialized instantly. 

If she had ever thought to question it, it would have been made irrelevant by his sister whispering in Kaija’s ear, “I know he’s a lot to handle, but just give him a chance. I can see how much he likes you already.” The woman, Honeymaren, had smiled at her, brown eyes sparkling with her own affection, almost as if she had known.

“What about you?” Kaija asked, watching him. Ryder was working a small knife over a piece of wood, not looking tired in the least despite what must have been an early hour.

“I don’t usually sleep that much. Have to keep an eye on the reindeer, you know.” He nodded toward the unseen herd in the woods. “Not that there’s much danger here. And the forest takes care of us.” He patted the ground next to him. “You probably don’t get as much sleep as you want to, what with your visions and all.”

“And all,” she mused, resting against the taut hide at her back. It was quiet for a moment, the sound of the knife scraping across the wood the only sound. “Did my parents tell you very much about my visions?”

“Only that you had one that brought you here.”

“My mother didn’t say anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember.

“Nothing about you?” 

His hands paused, then he set aside the knife and wood and his hands took hers. “I know you saw me before you came here. I have no idea why me,” he laughed, “because I don’t know if I’m any woman’s ideal guy, but I’m not going to question it.” She laughed softly, focused on the sensation of his thumb running across the back of her hand. “But what did you see? Or can you even tell me?”

Such a simple question. She’d heard it all her life. She usually wasn’t inclined to go into great detail. She hadn’t even told her father about Ryder, only her mother, and only because apparently she’d said his name in her sleep once.

What had she seen… 

“Is the sun up yet?” They hadn’t been the words she’d been looking for, but they helped.

“Not yet.” He grinned. “I know the best place to see it come up, if you want. If we leave now, we’ll be there by sunrise.” His smile faltered. “Unless, you want—”

“I want to watch the sunrise with you,” she said, trying to keep her voice clear.

“Okay, come on!” Then, hesitating, he stepped behind her and covered her eyes, then began guiding her forward.

“Stop it!” She couldn’t see a thing. Her eyes were covered. She was laughing jovially. She was happy. “Where are you taking me?”

Her stomach flipped with the realization of what was happening. She heard his voice shushing her, then chuckling as he guided her forward. There was a longer pause than she remembered in her vision, but having seen and lived her future before, she knew what she saw was often only a highlight, a sprinkle of what could be.

She took in the sensations she could—the sound of leaves crunching under her feet, the feel of hard rocks when they left the grass. His hands brushed momentarily at her waist as he situated her on a stony perch she still couldn’t see.

“Sun’s not quite up yet. Almost there.” He sounded excited. “I promise, it’s worth the wait.”

“So, when you said you know nothing about women,” she said, the words coming with little thought, “you meant you find nothing unusual about dragging some strange girl off into the woods and blinding her?” 

“Oh, I meant every word.” He laughed, and there was that feeling. That  _ want. _ Then, his voice was soft in her ear. “Okay, now.”

His hands disappeared and her eyes opened just as the sun crested the horizon. It was gold and orange and it changed the colors of the forest around them, which she could clearly see from the outcrop he’d brought her to.

“It’s  _ so _ beautiful,” she breathed, the words catching in her chest. She turned back to him, beming. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There was another long silence while they watched the sun come up, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that he kept looking at her. His face was softer than she could have ever seen, lit by the golden glow that crept over the horizon. “Kaija? Can… Well, I wondered if I could…” He shook his head, brushing back his dark hair. “Nevermind, it’s crazy, I just met you yesterday, and we barely know each other, but I feel like—”

“It is crazy. And I know what you mean. It  _ is _ crazy.” She knew the words to say as she turned to face him, and the smile crept back onto her face again as she interrupted him. “But yes, Ryder. You can kiss me.”

“How…” He shook his head, his grin matching hers. “Never mind.”

She could feel him in her toes, and they curled in her boots as his warm hands settled on her waist. It was pure and warm and  _ so _ good, and she sighed softly into him.

And then it was more. She’d only ever kissed Jágo, and it had never been like this. It had been soft, chaste, a quick pressure that disappeared just as fast. 

Now, lips were parting, and his mouth was only a little hesitant against hers. She breathed him in, only jumping a little when his tongue trailed over her bottom lip.

But then he was pulling away, shaking his head, and she felt another lurch in her stomach, this one less pleasant. He was no longer smiling. Instead, he almost looked pained. 

She hadn’t seen what happened next. What if it  _ was  _ all too much for him?

“I can’t, Kaija,” he said, and there was agony in his voice. “Not when—” He sighed heavily, walking to sit on a higher part of the rocks. She followed, confused.

“What?” She felt annoyance boiling up in her veins. She knew he didn’t have the same perspective as her, but she wondered again if he felt the pull she did. He  _ seemed _ to. It had been in his hands and his lips when he’d kissed her, so why was he now suddenly regretting it? “Not when what?”

There was a tortured expression in his face. “I promised Yelena I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Well, we’ve established you’re a lousy liar.” She climbed up next to him, sitting a few feet away as she gazed out at the sunrise. “Can it go along with that that you’re no good at keeping secrets?”

“It’s not  _ my _ secret, Kaija.” She rolled her eyes, about to interject when he suddenly said, “It’s yours. At least, I think it’s yours. Somebody else’s, at least.” She didn’t have a response for that. Honestly, at this point, she had no idea what the hell he was even talking about. If her parents hadn’t revealed her visions, what secrets could he be holding that had anything to do with her?

He continued. “Neither of your parents have said a word about where you came from or why you’re really here. But you have magic in you, and that, we know. It wouldn’t be right to send you away because your parents don’t want to reveal too much about themselves. Nobody blames them for that. Sometimes, it’s what keeps us alive.”

“But?” Wrapping her arms around her legs, she shivered slightly, but not from the early morning chill.

“But…”

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.”

“Would you help?” There was an unusual, accusatory tone in his voice, and she blinked in surprise. She’d known him for barely a couple of days, didn’t think she had ever done anything to slight him, but he was looking at her as if she had committed some terrible crime. “I like you, Kaija. I like you a lot more than it makes sense for knowing you for a couple of days, and you were asleep half the time, anyway! I can’t explain that. I told you I don’t believe in coincidences or accidents or anything like that. Everything has purpose, even when we don’t understand it. So what I can’t get my head around is why you’re  _ here,” _ he said, gesturing to the forest, “with me, when you should be in Arendelle.”

Kaija felt her heart racing, heard the rush of blood in her ears. She hadn’t seen this, and it sent shockwaves through her. “What?” 

What the  _ hell _ did he know?

He gestured helplessly into the space between them. “Your name is Kaija. Your parents are Rikkar and Johánná. You have blonde hair and brown eyes and you see visions of the future. How many Kaijas like that exist, do you think?” The ability to speak was lost on her again.

He knew something, her brain was screaming. He knew some terrible truth about her. Did he know that she hadn’t been able to save Jágo from death? That she had forced her father to abandon his oldest friend for her dreams? That she had failed so many times to stop terrible things from happening, even if it wasn’t her fault?

Did he hate her?

“I have a friend with blonde hair and brown eyes and a girl he’s convinced is his sister, because she looks  _ just _ like his mother, because her parents lost their son in a fire when he was five. Because the name he was given,” Ryder continued, and he seemed to be watching her closely, “wasn’t one you hear every day. In fact, I’ve only heard it once.”

He waited, after that. He seemed almost expectant, and Kaija felt a piece of the puzzle she hadn’t noticed missing before finally,  _ finally _ click into place.

“Your friend,” she finally managed to whisper, unable to look at him directly, just watching from the corner of her eye. “What is his name?” Somehow, she knew the answer, but she still needed to hear it.

There could be no coincidence. It wasn’t possible. This was fate weaving her intricate web over Kaija’s life, and things she had never been able to see before were finally coming into focus.

“His name is Kristoff Bjorgman.” The world tilted, but he kept talking. “I’ve been trying to help him find you. He’s going crazy, and I can’t understand why…” She could see the frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. “I know you know him. You  _ met  _ him. You have to know he’s a good person. Why would you run away from him? Why would your  _ parents _ run away from—”

“They don’t know.” She shook her head quickly, desperately. “I haven’t told them. I don’t know, but this was what I saw and I had to come here and I just know, somehow, everything will work out. I can’t… I can’t…” She groaned, hiding her face in her knees. “How do you even…” She couldn’t form the words.

“I met him almost ten years ago, now. He came here with the Queen of Arendelle, when she promised she would free us.” Ryder finally managed a small smile. “He was nice to me, didn’t think I was weird or annoying or anything. Over the years, he’s almost become like a brother. When he started talking to me two years ago about this crazy story—his dead parents and a sister he never knew he had—I felt like I had to help him. He’s hardly told a soul down in Arendelle, just Anna and Elsa and maybe Mattias.” Mattias. The soldier. “He’s been living with it almost on his own, and it’s completely messed him up.”

If he knew…

Ryder was shaking his head. “He’s a good person, Kaija. I just can’t figure out why you would put him through this. I mean, I don’t think you’re some twisted person who wants to torture him, or, for that matter, your parents. None of it makes sense.”

Might as well get it all out now.

“I see his memories in flashbacks,” Kaija said quietly, still not looking toward him. “I see him running away. For a long time, that’s all it was. All my life, watching the back of his head disappear into the woods, never knowing what happened after that. Then, it was that one memory, but stronger. More drawn out.” She sighed. “I’ve started seeing more of his memories. The worst ones he’s got, I think. How do I tell my parents that? And what do I tell them?”

“You could tell them the truth.” Ryder sounded confused, as if this were obvious. 

“But I didn’t see that before…” She sighed. Would they have traveled all this way if they had known her brother was just days away? The “what ifs” piled up in her head, and she blinked rapidly to clear her thoughts.

“Kaija.” Ryder’s voice brought her back to the present. “Why haven’t you told them?” She finally looked at him, saw the confusion in his dark eyes.

“Because I wasn't supposed to!” Nobody ever understood this. “I can’t tell you why—”

“Because you saw it, I know.” He ran a hand over his face. “Kaija, I don’t understand—”

“What’s not to understand?” She hopped down from their perch, walking closer to the edge, but not dangerously so. Her brain spun as she lived another of her visions before she realized it. She had somehow failed to notice them being in the same place. “I can’t tell you why I couldn’t tell them the truth.”

There was silence, just like her vision. His voice was soft, wondering, as he asked, “Would you have met me? If you told them, I mean. What if you hadn’t…”

And there it was. The thing no one understood. The thing he knew within two days of meeting her. The proof, she thought, they both needed to know that this was going to work. “I don’t know. Maybe, someday. But I’ve been wrong before, and…” She sighed, turning back to where he was rising up to meet her. “I didn’t want to be wrong about this, I think. Not if I knew I could finally fine everything I needed here.”

And she had, she realized. Even, though he wasn’t here at the moment, Kristoff. She had finally found the person who could hopefully help heal the wound she had left on her brother’s poor heart.

“So, now you have to tell them.” Ryder sounded sympathetic.

Kaija closed her eyes. “I know.”

“ _ Everyone,  _ Kaija. Especially Kristoff. This is killing him, Kaija. He’s a wreck.”

She sighed heavily. “I know.”

Then warm arms were around her, and she leaned into them. “I’ll be right there, if you want me.”

It made no sense. Logic dictated the insanity of finding such a strong connection with someone so quickly. She never connected with much of anyone, really. Never felt like she belonged, burdened and misunderstood as she so often was. All her life she had felt out of place, and in two days, she suddenly felt like she was finally fixed. She finally felt that most alien of feelings. 

It was real, bone deep relief.

She closed her eyes, smiling. “I’ll always want you.”

She was certain of that, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing now, in this final editing process, that there's some angst here. Didn't realize it so much at the time, but it'll be okay. Happy ending coming through. Nothing worth waiting for ever comes easily. We're almost there!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe... that Elsa can do a lot with magic. 
> 
> We're closing in! Two more chapters and an epilogue to go. Enjoy!

It was late in the evening when Kristoff finally pulled Sven into the castle stables. Two days had turned into four when a snowstorm seemed a good excuse to stay put for a couple more days. Finally, that afternoon, they’d dragged themselves from the bed, threw their things into the wagon, and headed home. In the hazy twilight, he could see that nothing had changed, that everything was more or less as they’d left it.

But it felt different. He unhooked Sven, who gave him a sad look of understanding before settling himself in for a much deserved rest. Gently, Kristoff plucked Anna from her seat, lifting her with ease and beginning the walk inside.

Kai had seen them, met them at the door with a smile.

“Welcome home, sir,” he said softly. “Shall I have your things sent up?”

“Please.”

The halls were quiet. Passing a clock, he could see it was almost eleven. Everyone was asleep by now. They would see Elsa and the kids in the morning.

Gently, Kristoff laid Anna on the bed and set to work undressing her. She grumbled as he pulled off her boots. “Want me to leave them on? Your feet will hurt so much worse in the morning.” She snorted and rolled onto her stomach, managing to hoist one foot up with a bend of her knee. “Just the shoes, then.” Task completed, he stepped away, tossing the boots lightly to one side.

Grunting and groaning and doing something akin to a growl, Anna’s hands suddenly flew out to her sides. She managed to work out of her simple travel clothes easily, fingers a little furious over the ties of her corset. He chuckled while he undressed himself, watching his wife’s struggles on the bed.

Finally, she was able to kick everything down, but it was caught on her foot. “Kristoff,” she whined, “get it off.”

“What would you do without me?” he asked, crossing to pull the offending items and throwing them toward her boots. They could be dealt with tomorrow. Making his way into the dressing room, he found a clean, loose nightgown for her, drawstring pants for himself, and headed back to the bedroom. She was now on her back, naked as the day she was born, one arm thrown over her eyes.

“Come on, baby, sit up for me.” She groaned, fighting back for a few seconds before she let herself be supported into a sitting position. “There you go. Give me your hands.” He managed to get her hands through the arms, and her head in the correct hole, then tugged it down to her hips. Then he let go, and she fell back against the pillows, dead asleep and snoring. No longer worried that she would wake, he tugged back the covers around her, pulled down the hem of her nightgown, and tossed the blankets back over her. She snored for the duration.

He secretly loved that she snored. It wasn’t usually outstandingly loud, though she was more than capable, and it was such an odd sound to come from such a beautiful creature. Blowing out the candle, he climbed in next to her, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the tiny movements of her mouth, not quite at ease, but resolved, even a little relieved.

Kristoff had said nothing to a soul, not even Anna, when he had resolved himself a month ago that Kaija’s time to be found was almost up. Kaija’s visions, both in content and mechanics, were a mystery to him. Before they had left him, old Dure had assured Kristoff that something unusual was going on with Kaija. Dure had never seen her so violently taken. He had, in fact, heard enough from Rikkar and Johánná over the years to be assured that they normally came with relative calm, almost always in her dreams at night. 

But the day Jágo was murdered, the day he met her, Dure insisted that everything changed.

Dure knew she had seen Mattias and her brother, but he’d known no more until he’d pieced together the rest. En route to the little village where his parents had relocated, Dure had filled Kristoff in on as much as he could. Kaija seemed to have seen some interaction between Kristoff and Mattias, and had also seen his children. It was all he’d really known about Kaija’s vision. Not unusual, Dure had said, for the girl to keep things to herself. 

It had bothered Kristoff not to know more, and it still did.

Dure had also told him a little about his parents. Their lives weren’t eventful, and there weren’t many stories to tell. But Rikkar still went up to a place not far from their home for ice, helping keep more cargo cold for longer, making them all a little more money. Johánná was still beautiful, still wore her hair in the long plait Kristoff remembered, still smiled as brightly as the sun, even if there had been several years where Dure didn’t recall her smiling at all.

Kaija had been a surprise, it turned out. Johánná hadn’t had a pregnancy before or since him, and Dure didn't recall her birth as being anything easy. Fortunately, Johánná had managed, and he  _ did _ recall her joking that after Kristoff, anything would have been easier.

Over the years, Kristoff had visited Dure several times, and each time, the old man shook his head sadly, saying there was no news. The last visit had been a month ago, and Kristoff had resolved himself that he was giving Kaija a little more time before giving up. He was missing his family, missing milestones and little everyday events, and he couldn’t bear to miss any more.

Four days alone with his wife, no agenda or anywhere to really be, had reminded him of why he needed to be done. He  _ had _ a family, and it was beautiful. He had never pictured himself as a father, but now, he couldn’t imagine not having children. He had a beautiful wife, their mother, who loved him, who stood at his side when his life took both of theirs on crazy twists and turns. His wife, who gave herself over to him so willingly, so beautifully, it brought tears to his eyes. His wife, who joked that they were overdue for Kristoff’s drama, having put up with so much of Elsa and Anna’s.

He could be content in that, at least, even though part of his heart would always hurt.

Anna was probably right. There would be no stopping himself if something fell into their laps. He’d keep it to himself, for now.

He thought briefly that Mikael and Josefine would probably be banging down the doors as soon as breakfast was over if they found out their parents were home, and the thought had Kristoff burrowing down next to Anna, wrapping himself around her as if he couldn’t breathe otherwise, and finally falling into a restful sleep.

When he woke, there was light coming from the other sides of his eyelids, though it was dim, and soft voices and laughter from the other end of the bed.

“Do you think he’s awake?” Josefine’s soft whisper met his ears.

“Go poke him and find out.” Anna. He could almost see the smile on her face.

There was a slight shift in the bed as the little girl carefully made her way toward him. He ignored the first and second pokes delivered by tiny fingers.

“Go on, try again. He  _ loves _ it when you wake him up with pokes.”

The third poke showed more potential to turn into something bruising if he didn’t respond, so he opened his eyes, reaching out to pull the shocked little face closer. He planted a kiss on the top of her head before letting go, chortling sleepily as Josefine squealed and rolled back to Anna, who clutched her tightly while Mikael laughed at their side.

“And your mother,” he grunted, working his way closer to them, but staying on his side, “ _ loves _ to be woken up to ice down her back.”

“That is a lie.”

Then Mikael was pulling Josefine closer to whisper something, and they beamed at each other before leaping down off the bed.

“Be right back!”

Kristoff wrapped sleepy arms around his wife’s waist. “‘Go poke him and find out,’” he grumbled. “I’m not the one that likes to wake up to poking.” Rolling, he pressed his lips to her stomach then sighed, relaxing into her lap. “You always enjoy it, though.”

“Leave it to you to take something innocent and make it about  _ poking.” _ She giggled as she lightly poked down his arm with her fingers. “You’re right, though, I do like a good poking. I’d take one now, but we definitely don’t have time.”

“Good thing we had four days worth.” He pressed another kiss, this time to the crook of her elbow. “Love you. I’m happy we’re home.”

“ _ I’m _ happy  _ you’re _ home.” Her fingers were carding through his hair, and he realized how long it was getting. He probably looked like he’d just come off a week on the mountain, which in some ways, he had. “But I meant it when I said we could go.”

“Don’t want to.” He took a deep breath. She smelled like he probably did—the days spent in the woods left the tang of her sweat mixed with the musk of the same days spent making love. He could still smell the scent of a burning fire in her hair and the flesh of her arm, and he soaked it in. Anna could probably be covered in manure, and he would still think she smelled amazing, because there was always that slightly sweet scent that was uniquely Anna. “Want to stay home. Stay with you. Stay with the kids.”

Then she was pulling his head back to look at him, and there was a warm, soft smile on her face. It reminded him of the look she’d worn when he’d first held Mikael in his arms. “I love you for that,” she said softly. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You kind of have a tendency to run off on crazy adventures—”

She silenced him by leaning down for a quick, chaste kiss. Then she rose from the bed, crossing to the dressing room. He could hear the sound of water splashing in the bowl as she quickly cleaned herself up, opening and closing off wardrobe doors and drawers as she retrieved clothing, just like every other morning. She was only gone for a few moments before she emerged, dressed in a simple green dress that did wonders for her blue eyes, tying off a simple, single braid as she walked.

“I have a thousand things to do once they’re back,” she said, her voice apologetic. “But I’ll try to have the afternoon freed up, if I can.”

“Only if you can.” He watched from the bed, blankets twisted around his waist as she stepped closer, sitting down at his side. “I know we weren’t supposed to be gone that long—”

“But I’m glad we were.” She brushed his hair from his face. “We needed it. Now back to the grind.” Then she collapsed onto her face next to him, groaning softly.

There was a soft knock, and they peered over to the door in time to see Mikael, followed by Josefine each child carefully carrying a tray in their hands. Mikael beamed. “We brought you breakfast!”

“I see that!” Anna laughed delightedly. “How perfect!” She rose, helping the children ease the trays up onto the low table that was sometimes used for eating, or playing cards or checkers on long nights, and on more than one occasion, as something to keep Anna elevated while he took her.

The croissants and fruit and sausage were welcome after their late night, and he ate quietly, watching the children bouncing around the room, first to the window to bemoan the spring rain falling, then to jump on the bed before Anna told them only on their bottoms, which made Kristoff roll his eyes.

“You’re going soft on them,” he murmured, “letting them jump on the bed.”

“You’ll have to try it sometime,” Anna teased. “It’s liberating. I loved it when I was a kid.”

“If you say so. With my luck, I’d sprain something.”

Then she was off, quick kisses dropped onto three heads, to be up to her eyes in paperwork.

Elsa mercifully appeared a while later to take the children for a game of hide and seek, and he spent a good while cleaning himself up after she cheerfully told him he looked like he smelled. A glance in the mirror showed that he looked like hell. Why Anna put up with him, he’d never know. He soaked in the tub for a long time, dozing off once in the warmth of the water. When he finally dragged himself from the tub, he looked in the mirror again, then went to work on trimming back the parts of his beard that were out of control. He even trimmed up his hair, just a little, knowing Anna liked to do most of it herself, but needing it out of his face. 

He donned comfortable pants, soft boots, loose shirt, and light vest for the day. Satisfied when he looked in the mirror that he looked more himself, he set off to find Elsa and the children.

The shrieks of laughter could be heard through the corridors, and he followed the sounds. He followed them directly into Kai, who stumbled.

“Sorry,” Kristoff muttered sheepishly. “You okay?”

“Very good, sir.” Kai smiled. “Glad to bump into you. Your friend Ryder just arrived. He looked a little worse for wear from the weather, I’m sure you don’t mind I showed them in.”

“Them?”

“He had a young woman with him.” Kai’s smile grew. “I suspect he finally found himself a companion. Poor thing, she was too bundled up to see, but I’m sure she’s lovely.”

“Did he say why he was here?”

“Something he needed to show you, sir. He didn’t say what.”

“Where is he?”

“I have them set up in the library, sir. I left them with warm tea and biscuits, and some blankets. I’m about to go see about a change of clothes.”

“Thanks.”

Kristoff grinned. He had seen Ryder a few weeks ago, when they had been looking for Kaija, and Kristoff had noted that his friend seemed lonely. Leave it to him to find a girl and settle down in a matter of weeks. He set off quickly for the library, Kai following in his wake. 

“Set up a couple of guest rooms,” Kristoff said, impressed as always that Kai was able to keep up with his long strides. “I don’t know what they’ll want, but just put them next to each other. For all I know, he’s married this girl. Keeps going on about wanting to settle down, have some kids, but can never find the right woman. Did he say how they met?”

“Oh, I’m only theorizing. He was holding her hand, though, standing close, that sort of thing.” Kristoff glanced back to see Kai’s eyes sparkling.

“Seen that before, have you?”

“Once or twice.”

Then he was at the door, throwing it open to congratulate his friend only to freeze in his tracks, his smile dropping as he felt the blood drain from his face.

There, looking extremely nervous and holding tightly to one of Ryder’s hands with both of hers, was his sister.

“Kaija.”

* * *

Kaija’s nerves had been frayed for days now. Her parents were confused when she insisted her need to leave for a few days with a man she had just met, but they trusted her, like always. Her mother gave her a knowing smile, to which Kaija shook her head. Johánná had teased her quietly, reminded her how children came to be, and Kaija rolled her eyes. It was definitely too soon for  _ that. _

It broke her heart to think of all the things she had kept from them.

Their son. Their daughter-in-law. Grandchildren.

And her mother was  _ itching _ for grandchildren.

Soon, she hoped. She hadn’t seen anything about this, was going in blind, but hopeful. The old troll’s words rang in her memory clearly.

_ “He will forgive you.” _

He had been so sure, it was the only thing that kept her heart from leaping from her chest.

The trip had revealed more about the years she’d spent searching for the forest while Kristoff had searched for her, more than the old troll had said. Kristoff was bitter about the entire thing, Ryder warned. He didn’t understand her perspective, and he was angry at her for running away from him, always keeping a step ahead. But Ryder’s promise to do his best to help his friend understand cheered her a little. If, he insisted, Kristoff didn’t kill him first for taking up with his sister in a matter of a few short days.

Because Ryder also knew that underneath the bitterness was a tiny seed of hope. Kristoff was the kind of a man who would risk his life for his family, Ryder had said, and had done before. He told her the tale of the earth giants, the ones she had seen in the forest, nearly crushing Anna, and how her brother had bravely scooped her up and ridden her away, at much risk to himself.

It had also rained most of the way, but she would be damned if she stopped now.

Thick leather did its job, though, and they stayed more or less dry, even if he did make her bundle up in every scarf she’d brought. Days in, and he was already worrying over her. It was odd, to connect to another person so quickly after a life spent keeping everyone at arm’s length. But he showed no judgment, only understanding and empathy, and he overstepped no bounds, just holding her close for warmth at night while they took shelter.

Well, there may have been some kissing, perhaps a not so subtle attempt on her part to initiate just a little more, but he had slowed her back down, smiling, stroking her hair while he would whisper, “Not yet. Soon, I promise.”

Also, during the entire trip, she didn’t have a single flashback. Nothing. None of Kristoff’s memories, none of his horrors. It almost worried her.

Arendelle was more or less what she remembered. The castle was stunning, jutting out over the fjord, promising the best views of the water, the cliffs, and the mountains. Now, though, it wasn’t a frightening place to be taken after the death of someone who had promised to look after her. It was somewhere she was going with a man who had vowed to help her put her life back together, a place where they would hopefully, finally, heal.

She was not encouraged by Kristoff’s face when he threw open the doors to the room she recalled being the library. He had been smiling, but he looked like he was somewhere between fury and fainting as he stood, frozen in place, before finally saying her name.

It was quiet for a moment while she nodded. The man who had brought them in, the one Ryder seemed to know while Kaija only vaguely recalled, stood in the hall behind her brother.

Somehow, she’d never thought to realize that Kristoff would have servants. Last time, she had seen mostly soldiers. But of course he would. His wife was the Queen.

He was the Prince Consort of Arendelle. She wasn’t sure what all that entailed, but she was sure it came with some pull. He could have her thrown out, not allow her back. He could have her arrested.

Worst of all, he could simply turn and walk away, saying nothing.

He looked like he wanted to.

“Why…” He trailed off, gesturing toward the pair of them, huddled in front of the warmth of the roaring fire. “What…” 

“She just showed up.” Ryder’s voice met her ears, but her eyes were glued on Kristoff’s matching set, and he was glaring right back at her. There was something else, other than anger and shock. She tried to identify it. “Few days ago. We knew who she was right away, as soon as her parents said her name.” He squeezed her hands a little more tightly, and she held on for dear life. “Yelena said it wasn’t our secret, but I couldn’t…” Ryder trailed off, appearing uncomfortable as the two Bjorgman siblings stared each other down.

It finally dawned on her, the identification of the glimmer in the brown eyes that matched hers.

Pain.

So much pain.

“You left,” he finally said, his voice dripping with the agony of someone driven mad. “You just left and—”

“Kaija!”

_ Fire. Screaming. Kristoff running. _

_ Fire. Screaming. Kristoff running. _

Her eyes flew open almost as quickly as the flashback had hit. She was still standing, but only because Ryder was holding her up. Kristoff was still there, shocked now, one large hand reaching toward her, if only slightly.

“Was that—” He gestured wordlessly. “You know.”

“Kind of.” She winced at him, not wanting to tell him she’d seen his wife nearly die over and over and over, seen the belt come down on him, felt his fear, but she needed to. She just had no idea how. “It’s a lot to explain.” She fiddled with her braid nervously, and watched as his face softened.

“Mama used to play with her hair like that.” His voice was soft, wondering, and it gave her hope. Maybe it wasn’t too late, after all.

Kaija smiled softly. “She still does.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again, an impassive look coming over his face, and it matched the businesslike tone of his voice. “You should get changed, have something to eat. Then, you can explain.”

The sounds of laughter filled the air suddenly from down the corridor outside, and Kaija could hear several sets of running footsteps.

Then Kristoff was turning and smiling, happier than Kaija had ever seen him, laughing as he hoisted two small children up over his shoulders. They were followed by a beautiful woman with pale blonde hair, too well dressed to be a nanny or a servant. She rested a gentle hand on Kristoff’s arm as she stepped closer, her icy blue eyes dancing at the merry scene before her.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re busy,” the woman said, smiling up at Kristoff, “but they just  _ had  _ to see you.”

“It’s fine.” This was a different Kristoff. He was suddenly warm and affectionate, chuckling when the two children squealed at each other behind his back. “Thanks for taking them this morning. You were right, I looked like hell.”

Reaching up, the woman flicked a rogue strand of his hair out of his face. It was a comfortable motion, as if she’d done it a hundred times before. “I swear, your hair grows faster than weeds in the sunlight.”

Kristoff laughed. “It’s a lost cause, I keep telling you.”

“Anna’s not around, is she?”

Who the  _ hell _ was this woman to call the Queen of Arendelle by her given name?

“Nah, she’s holed up in her office all morning. Behind on work.” He shook his head. “So am I, for that matter.” Kaija didn’t miss the side eye she gave him. “Hope you don’t mind another afternoon on your own.”

Did Kristoff have a mistress? Was he just flaunting this woman around? If that was the case, why hadn’t she seen it before?

Kaija could not help the narrowing of her eyes as she spoke. “Who is she?” The words came out with more venom than she intended.

The woman cocked a brow at her. “Who are  _ you?” _

“Kaija, this is Elsa. Anna’s sister.” The blonde woman’s face gave way to shock, and Kaija felt her own cheeks flush. Of  _ course _ it was. “Elsa, this is Kaija.”

“Who is Kaija?” The little boy’s voice came from behind Kristoff, where Kaija couldn’t see his face, but she knew it was little Mikael.

The little tow-haired boy from her vision.

“This,” Kristoff said, pivoting around so the children could see the visitors, “is Kaija.”

Then both children were squealing at the sight of Ryder, completely unperturbed by the stranger before them. Kaija watched as he knelt down, only to be tackled by the two squealing children.

And she could see it even more clearly, now, how much Mikael looked like Kristoff. He looked like Kaija, like Johánná.

“Careful,” Ryder was laughing, “I’m a mess!” Clearly, neither of the children cared as they latched on for hugs and greetings, managing to get themselves completely sopping.

“Come on,” Elsa said, laughing as she held out her hands for the children. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

“Aw, but Aunt Elsa, Ryder’s here!” Mikael sounded almost heartbroken, and he gazed up at his aunt with large, round eyes. Kaija almost laughed. It was the same look her mother sometimes used on her father, and she knew it took work to refuse, so she was impressed that Elsa was able.

“And I’m sure Ryder isn’t going anywhere right away,” she promised, then she leveled Kristoff with a look. “I’m sure they’ll both be staying for at least a few days.”

Kristoff’s reaction was as instantaneous as it was amusing. She could see with clarity now, finally recognized Elsa’s voice as that teasing voice she’d heard in her visions. He pouted now, gesturing toward Kaija. “But she—”

“I’m sure they’re staying.”

“She just—”

“I’m  _ sure _ ,” Elsa repeated, brows arched in a way that could easily be described as regal, “they’re staying. I’m sure  _ Anna _ will want to say hello.” Kristoff was easily taller than Elsa, but the lithe blonde managed to stare him down, anyway.

Then he was crossing his arms, huffing, bangs blowing away from his face. “Fine,” he grunted. He waved at his children, who had been watching the exchange between their father and aunt in fascination. “Go on, you two. Go get cleaned up. I’ll come find you later.”

“Promise?” Little Josefine nearly stood on her father’s feet as she gazed up at him. Kaija could see now that the girl’s eyes matched the color and shape of Elsa’s. 

Kristoff picked her up briefly, kissing her nose. “I promise, sweetheart. Now, scoot. You’re all wet.”

“Kai, can you take the children?” Elsa smiled at the man who stood silently just outside the door. “Kristoff can get Ryder something dry, and I’ll whip up something for his friend.”

Kaija didn’t miss the way Elsa said  _ friend, _ almost as if she were as suspicious of Kaija as Kaija had been of her.

“Not fair,” Ryder whined. Kaija wanted to agree. Elsa’s steady, unblinking gaze was a little disconcerting, and she wasn’t sure how comfortable she was being alone with her. She supposed Elsa wouldn’t kill her. She seemed insistent on Kaija and Ryder staying, at least. “His clothes are too big.”

“You think Anna never found an excuse to get things made up in your size?” Kristoff rolled his eyes, clapping his friend on the shoulder and steering him out of the room. “Come on.”

Kaija and Elsa followed the pair down a series of long hallways. Kaija couldn't stop looking around. There were pictures on the walls that had hung for generations, priceless works of art worth more than her family could earn in a lifetime. Fine draperies hung from the walls in finer fabrics than Kaija had ever seen, and she was led to a room with a massive bed, the frame and mattress enough to support a whole family, if it had to.

Elsa closed the door and appraised her. “Would you like a bath, or just a change of clothes?” Kaija gave her a blank stare. “You’ve had a bath before, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have!” Kaija snipped, then tried to reign herself back in. If this was Kristoff’s sister-in-law, she needed to try to behave. “I mean, I’ve taken a bath, yes. But…” 

“Let me ask another way. Have you ever had a bath in a tub?” Her tone had lost a bit of the edge with the words.

Kaija had only heard of bathtubs. For heaven’s sake, where would they put one in the tiny dwelling she had grown up in? Buckets worked just as well, didn’t they?

They did not, as it turned out.

Kaija groaned as she sank into the hot, fragrant water. She dunked her entire head, wanting to rinse the grime from her hair so that it could feel as good as the rest of her. She lost track of time, alternating between dozing and playing with the soap, which was slicker than what she was used to.

“Kaija?” Elsa’s voice called from the opposite side of the door. “Are you alright in there?”

“I’m fine,” Kaija called quickly. Would Elsa come in? Would the woman tell her she needed to strip completely nude to get into the tub, only to barge in later?

“Alright. Just checking. It’s been almost an hour.”

“Oh, God,” Kaija groaned. She never wanted to leave. How did her brother do anything but take baths?

Elsa had instructed her to dry off with a large, fluffy towel—more fine fabric, and so warm—and to wrap in an equally soft robe. She pulled it on, working the towel through her hair in an effort to dry it.

She finally emerged, feeling more refreshed than she’d ever felt in her life, ready to start over. Elsa couldn’t possibly be  _ that _ bad, if she’d suggested such a beautiful thing as a bath.

Kaija was already plotting the next one.

Elsa seemed to sense the shift in her mood, and she smiled a little more warmly now. “Feel better?”

“Oh, I feel like I went to heaven,” she groaned, stretching her arms over her head. “That was amazing. How do any of you get anything done?”

Then Elsa was laughing, trying to catch her breath, explaining to a confused Kaija that getting Kristoff to take a daily bath had taken years of training, and was still something he didn’t do when he was away.

Elsa smiled with the affection of a sister, Kaija could now see more easily. “I swear, he’s happier when he smells like Sven and a week’s worth of man sweat.”

“Sounds like Papa.” Kaija laughed softly, thinking that if she had a brick for every time her mother told her father he stank, she could build a mansion. “Who is Sven?” Kaija sat when Elsa motioned to a funny looking piece of furniture.

Elsa rustled in a drawer for a moment before producing the finest hairbrush Kaija had ever seen. She handed it to her absently, and Kaija held it carefully, afraid to break it.

“Sven is the reindeer,” Elsa said, rolling her eyes, but fondly. “He’s been with Kristoff longer than should be possible, but I always say there’s a little magic in everyone.” She smiled now. “Some more than others. Now, about your clothes.” Elsa smirked, waving her hand.

Then the robe was gone, replaced by something like a  _ gakti,  _ made of fine cloth, a more beautiful and vibrant shade of blue than she had ever worn. She could feel an entire ensemble on her body, leggings and shoes and everything she would normally wear, but more beautiful.

And it almost felt like… 

But that wasn’t possible. Was it?

“What did you just do?” Awe was replaced quickly by shock as she stared at Elsa in amazement.

“It’s really ice, but I can give it the illusion of being something else.” Elsa smiled, shrugging. “Consider it a gift. I thought you’d look good in blue.”

The words were out of Kaija’s mouth before she could stop them. “You’re the ice witch.” Kaija wanted nothing more than to put the words right back in. 

Elsa’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And you’re the fortune teller.” Clearly, a bit of an insult, and intended as such, if only lightly jabbing in tone.

“I don’t dislike witches,” Kiaja said quickly. “My ancestors were witches. But I can call you something else if you—”

“No, I like it.” Elsa was smiling more brightly now, seeming to visibly relax as she realized that Kaija had meant no harm in her words. “The witch and the fortune teller. What a pair are we.” Then she raised her eyebrows. “Now, what are we going to do with all your lovely hair?”

Dressed and brushed and braided, Kaija finally emerged with Elsa, who seemed pleased with her handiwork. “Are you hungry?”

After a lunch of warm stew with dumplings, Kaija was feeling better than she had in her whole life. Elsa took her back to the library, where Ryder eventually found them, though he was alone.

“Said he had work to do,” Ryder shrugged, making himself comfortable in a large chair while Kaija and Elsa sat on a very large, very plush thing called a sofa. “He’ll be along later. I heard him talking to Anna. They just got back, so there’s some things to take care of, then the kids. They’ll see us at dinner.”

“Did you talk to him?” Kaija couldn’t help the worry in her voice.

“A little,” Ryder said, sounding hesitant. “I think he’s still in shock. He just kept going on that he had work to do, needed to get to work, so I just let him at it.”

“He’ll come around.” Elsa’s voice was certain where Ryder’s hadn’t been, and it was soothing. She gave Kaija’s hand an encouraging pat. “He’s just stubborn. I don’t think he stopped being afraid of me until after the children were born…” 

Kaija found her eyelids drooping from the heat of the fire, and before she knew it, she was drifting.

_ Elsa was standing barefoot on the edge of a rocky, pebbled beach. Her face lit up from ear to ear. _

_ “So you see?” Reaching out, she took Kaija’s hand with one of hers, and someone else’s—Kristoff, she quickly realized—in the other. “Kaija was right. It had to be this way. For everyone to end up where they needed to be, for all of us to finally,  _ finally _ be happy, it had to be this way.” _

_ “How do you know?” Kristoff was looking at her, suspicion clear on his face, as if he knew the answer, but required validation. _

_ Then Elsa simply said, “Ahtohallan knows.” _

“And then, she pulled so hard she went flying. Landed right in the river.” Ryder was laughing. He and Elsa had switched places, and he was now next to her on the sofa. He sobered when he felt her stirring. “Hey. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up, you were sleeping pretty hard.”

Elsa waved an elegant hand toward a table. “Would you like tea? Or hot chocolate?”

“Tea.” Kaija blinked herself awake. “No sugar.”

Ryder rubbed her shoulder softly while Elsa worked with her back turned. “Nice nap?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smiled when he kissed the tip of her nose. “I don’t think I’m caught up on sleep, after all.”

“Two days of sleeping in a cave can do that.” He leaned close, grinning as he whispered, “And half the time, you weren’t even  _ trying _ to sleep.”

“It would have been a lot less work and a lot more sleep if you’d just given me what I wanted.” She worked to hide the smile, but she could feel it in her eyes.

“And I told you, not  _ yet. _ I didn’t say never, geeze.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Elsa put the teacup down in front of Kaija, and the younger blonde jumped slightly. Elsa was smirking. “Or do I want to know?”

Simultaneously, Kaija and Ryder answered, “You don’t wanna know.”

Elsa shook her head. “Kaija, you’re as bad as your brother. Although, in his defence, I don’t think he was usually the instigator.”

Kaija laughed. “What was he like back then?”

“Absolutely terrified of me,” Elsa said, rolling her eyes again, “but absolutely in love with my little sister. She could never find anyone better suited for her.”

“What else?”

“Shyer,” Elsa mused. “We could barely get him to say five words to someone at a ball, you know. It wasn’t his thing. To be honest, it still isn’t.” She giggled, and the sound was more girlish than Kaija could have imagined possible. “He’s become an expert at corner skulking. He prefers that, but he’s much better at the conversation part now. Even if he only uses a few words, and they’re essentially to get someone to shut up. Anna loves it when he does it to slimy and annoying dignitaries and politicians. Those are his specialty.” 

“You used to be the queen,” Kaija said, remembering hearing that somewhere. “Did you leave because of your gift?”

“I guess you could say that.” Elsa was situating herself back in her chair, legs tucked up beneath her. “I needed to be in the woods, closer to Ahtohallan,” she explained simply, as if that settled it.

_ Ahtohallan knows. _

“Elsa?” Kaija reached for her tea, taking a pleased sip as she found it strong, almost like coffee. “Refresh my memory. My mother mentioned it once, but what can you tell me about Ahtohallan?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains descriptions of child abuse, racism, and bloody childbirth.

“Kristoff, can you at least  _ try _ to be civil?” Anna was watching him in the mirror as she changed for dinner. She wanted to be casual, wanted to give the appearance of ease, even though her stomach was in nervous knots.

She had never met Kaija, and though Kristoff insisted he’d only met her the one time, Anna insisted he had the advantage, having also seen and spoken with her this morning.

“I make no promises.” He was scowling as he brushed back his hair. She raised her eyebrows as he made himself more presentable than was usual for a simple family dinner. His loose pants from earlier in the day had been replaced by trousers, soft leather shoes replaced by boots, one of his nicer vests over a cotton shirt. He wasn’t formal, but he wasn’t as casual as he was normally, either.

“Goodness, should I get out a tiara?”

“Shut up.” His eyes rolled and his ears turned red.

Anna smirked. “No thank you, try again.”

“I’m not Mika.”

“Try again.”

“No, Anna, you do  _ not _ need a tiara.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s just getting long, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure. It’s not because I’ve told you how distinguished it makes you look.” She moved to stand behind him, pressing her lips to the back of his neck as he worked. “It’s just getting too long.”

He grunted in response, eyes not quite meeting hers.

“Just  _ please _ try not to jump down her throat right away,” Anna requested, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “You said she seemed like she felt bad. And you’ll talk to her after dinner.”

“It’s just,” he huffed, dropping his hands and meeting her gaze in the mirror, “it’s Ryder. He knows—he  _ fucking _ knows—how hard we looked for her. Knows I’m a fucking disaster. But he acts like, whatever he knows, it’s enough to just let her off the hook.”

“Maybe it is. He’s generally a pretty good judge of character.” She smiled at him in the mirror. “He likes you, after all.”

Kristoff wrinkled his nose. “Or maybe he’s just sleeping with her.”

Anna frowned now at the bitterness creeping into Kristoff’s voice. “Or maybe not. Didn’t he just meet her a few days ago?” At this, Kristoff raised a dark blonde brow, a smile tugging on his lips. She scoffed, reaching up to unnecessarily straighten his vest. “Not the same thing.” Now, he was turning so they were face to face, and she leveled her gaze up at his face. He was grinning. “And I only kissed you.” She tossed her hair. “You’re acting like they’re married.”

“Might as well be,” he grumbled, but he let her pull him down for a gentle kiss.

“And you’re  _ sure?” _ Anna had to ask, though she hated to. She’d been duped before, though nobody had ever managed to make it past Kristoff. Then he cringed, as if dredging up some awful memory, something she knew he’d been doing for two years, an effort to try to remember something—anything—to give him any inspiration for a place to look.

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice grave. He sounded like he had suddenly lost the energy to even make it down the stairs, and Anna almost regretted asking. Blinking, he focused on her face again, and she reached up, gently running her fingers over his poor, tortured face. “Anna, she looks  _ exactly  _ like her. And there’s little things I managed to remember, too, that match. The way she fidgets when she’s nervous, the way she plays with her hair, the sound of her voice. She looks like my mother and she looks like me and…” He trailed off, shrugging a little hopelessly. “Doesn’t matter. She’ll probably be gone in the morning.”

Before Anna could say anything else, there was a quick rap at the door. Anna watched, still feeling a little sad, as Kristoff straightened himself up, set his face, squared himself off like a soldier preparing for battle, and moved to open the door. Then she watched again as everything collapsed back down and he said, sounding a little relieved, “Oh, hey.” He stepped back, swinging the door wider. “Come on in.”

“Your sister called me a witch,” Elsa announced as she flounced into the room, making her way to perch on the arm of the couch while Anna moved back to her vanity, to finish her hair. Elsa’s face wore the broad smile Anna had only learned to expect regularly after stepping aside for her sister, giving up the throne of Arendelle for a seat in nature. It was the bright, happy smile of a carefree child, and it always made Anna remember that they were both exactly where they belonged. “Then she got all flustered trying to apologize. So now, I’m a witch.”

Kristoff raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smile in the corners of his eyes. “You hate it when people call you that.”

“She said I can call her a fortune teller, to keep things even.” Elsa’s smile faltered as she looked more closely at him. “She’s nice, actually. The only strange thing was that she just suddenly asked me about Ahtohallan.” Ice blue eyes rolled. “I mean, it wasn’t out of the blue. She’d just had one of her…” Elsa struggled to find the words. “Her visions? And she just nodded and listened when I gave her the vague, usual answer.”

“Do  _ you _ think she’s for real?” Kristoff sat down on the other end of the couch while Anna finished her hair. “I mean… What if it’s all some big, elaborate con?”

Anna didn’t ask why Kristoff was asking Elsa the same questions she’d asked him. She knew about the seed of doubt in his mind, just like she suddenly realized Elsa might have a better idea. Elsa could feel these things in her bones in a way no one else Anna knew was able, except for maybe the trolls.

“I…” Elsa sighed softly, her brow furrowing, just a bit. “I can’t explain to you how, but I just know, somehow, she’s who she says she is. It’s not how convincing she is—really, how the entire  _ story _ is—or even the visions themselves. I can just feel it in the tips of my fingers, Kristoff. There is magic in Kaija. It’s not the same as mine, but it’s there, and it’s strong.

“And to be honest,” she continued, staring at Kristoff with a conflicted expression, “she looks about as terrible as you do. I get the impression she doesn’t sleep much. I talked to her for a while, then she passed out. Ryder said she slept almost twenty hours when they first brought her to the camp.”

“Anything else?”

Elsa shook her head, looking sorry that she couldn't be more helpful. Then she laughed. “She did tell me your father isn’t big on baths.” Anna burst into laughter at this, and Kristoff rolled his eyes. The tension in the room vanished as quickly as it had settled. “I didn’t think I’d be able to pull her out of hers, though. She  _ loved _ it.”

Kristoff was quiet for a moment before a small, faraway smile lit his face. “I remember that,” he said, laughing as if he was a little surprised. “Not vividly, you know, just him coming home and trying to give her a kiss, and her saying he stank, and him making a huge fuss about having to clean up.” He laughed softly again, then flinched, ever so slightly.

“You know, you don’t have to hate her,” Elsa said softly, and Anna watched the look that passed between them. “She seems nice.”

“Well, you seem nice, but you’re actually terrifying.” Kristoff folded his arms over his chest, and Anna smiled while she watched him try to maintain a tough, unaffected front. The only thing more fun than watching Kristoff try to stay grumpy was watching Elsa make him fail spectacularly. 

“And you  _ love _ me,” Elsa teased, leaning back so she could jab him with her foot.

“Stop it.”

Another jab, this one at his shoulder. “Admit it.”

“No.”

“Come on, you worry when I disappear for weeks.” Anna watched in the mirror as her sister actually giggled, and was reminded why her husband was so remarkable. “You love me  _ so _ much.”

“I worry you’re not eating and you’re going to waste away.” He leaned over, grasping her wrist. “Look at this! For God’s sake, woman, just eat a sandwich!” Dropping Elsa’s arm and rolling his eyes, he swung a let up to push her away, further down the couch. “Will you eat a sandwich if I tell you how much I love you for being the best sister in the world?”

“You can’t say that anymore,” Elsa teased, “or it’s picking favorites. And I  _ do _ eat.” 

“Not enough. Not when you disappear to Ahtohallan for a week at a time and forget to eat anything while you’re there.”

“I eat! Yelena and Honey always send me with jerky and bread. We can’t all be built like a stack of bricks.” Elsa was rolling her eyes now, crossing her own arms, clearly not enjoying being at the other end of the stick. “Look at Anna. She eats, and she’s tiny.”

Anna grimaced as she rose to her feet, straightening out her dress and checking herself over one more time in the full length glass. “I’m not as tiny as I used to be.”

This time, two sets of eyes rolled. “You’ve had two children, Anna. You look amazing.” Elsa’s firm tone booked no refusal.

“See?” Kristoff pointed down at Elsa. “Listen to her, if you won’t listen to me.”

“We need to go,” Anna said cooly, using the Queen’s voice rather than her own, and the eye rolls she got this time were truly of outstanding caliber.

Ryder and Kaija were waiting when the trio arrived downstairs. Anna thought Ryder actually looked rather dashing. She’d had the clothes made to fit someone of his size, and they had done a good job. The shoes were soft leather, the trousers a looser than formal fit and made of comfortable fabric that her husband had selected. A loose linen shirt under a brown vest completed the relaxed ensemble, and Anna felt a little proud.

But of course, Elsa had dressed Kaija, and the girl looked stunning.

Her dress was a deep sapphire, deeper than Elsa normally used for herself, with white leggings that almost shimmered underneath, and Anna actually felt just a twinge jealous. She was so comfortable, but stunningly beautiful at the same time.

Anna found her voice. “Kaija.” She smiled, stepping forward as she held out a hand. “You have to be Kaija, right?”

The girl blinked at her, and Anna finally realized what everyone had been talking about. She looked like Kristoff in expression as much as physical appearance. Anna could recognize it easily.

Then, Kaija was trying to drop into a very awkward bow or curtsy, or something in between, and Anna rushed to her side. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She waved her hand dismissively. Kaija’s eyes and face looked a little dazed, as if astonished by this, and Anna could recognize  _ that  _ look easily, too. “I’m happy you’re finally here,” she continued. She actually felt a little nervous as Kaija’s shoulders relaxed slightly, gaze refocusing. “I’ve wanted to meet you for such a long time, I’m sure you can understand. We’ve been looking  _ everywhere! _ And I’m sure there’s some big long story, but I’m just so happy you’re here, so now we can all sit down and have a nice dinner and get to know each other and—”

“In order to do that,” Kristoff interrupted, and she jumped, not realizing he was only a few feet behind her now, “you have to stop talking.”

Anna swatted his shoulder before taking a deep breath, grabbing Kaija’s hand, and pulling her toward the smaller, more informal dining room where they normally ate when it was family.

Dinner went smoothly enough. Conversation flowed surprisingly easily, even if Kaija was a little quiet. She was out of her element, Anna could easily see. Anna felt for her, recognized the same awkwardness that she had once seen in Kristoff, and sometimes still did. She wanted nothing more than Kaija’s comfort, and she thought she knew a way to help.

Anna made a whispered request to Kai as he passed, then resumed her focus on the young woman seated at her right.

Kaija had brown eyes, the exact same color, shade, shape, and set as Kristoff’s. There were even dark flecks in the same places as his. Her hair, which was braided and thick and still well past her waist, was the same golden tone as Kristoff’s, and Anna even noted a strand near her ear that seemed determined to find its freedom, just like Kristoff’s. 

There were other things. When Kristoff was nervous, he ran his hands through his hair. When Kaija was nervous, she fiddled with her braid. When either of them shrugged, they did it identically. And on the occasion that she laughed, usually at something Ryder said, everything about her looked like Kristoff.

All but the nose, which performed the same as his, nevertheless. It scrunched precisely the same way, whether engaged in a wince or a smile. Even their smiles were the same, with matching cocks of eyebrows and tugs at the corners of lips.

They were winding down, and Anna noticed that Kristoff had said scarcely a word to Kaija, other than to start from the outside and work in where the forks were concerned. He paid attention to the others, but seemed very interested in what was on his plate when Kaija spoke. And Anna knew Kaija had noticed, would occasionally cast a worried, almost wounded glance his way when she thought no one was paying attention to her.

Fortunately for Anna, her eyes had stayed on her in some way all evening.

Unfortunately for Anna, she had failed to notice the change in Elsa’s demeanor. She’d become more thoughtful, almost as if she were preoccupied with something.

“Leaving?” Anna blinked in surprise at her sister as the small group rose from the table. “Now?”

“I’m sorry,” and Elsa sounded it, “I just realized something I need to take care of back home.” She smiled apologetically. “I’ll write. You can come visit! It’s so beautiful in the spring, and—”

“Fine.” She narrowed her eyes. “You write, I’ll wait.”

“You,” Elsa responded, suddenly too quiet for the others to hear as they filed out ahead of the sisters, “come visit. Soon. Trust me. Whenever they come back up, you come with them. I’ll explain everything when you get there.” Then she was kissing Anna’s cheek and flitting ahead. “Love you!”

Anna stayed still in the quiet room for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. There was some meaning in Elsa’s words that she couldn’t quite understand just yet. This was Elsa the Enchantress, the Ice Witch in all her mystery, with loaded looks and words with double meanings. Whatever Elsa had to do back home, Anna was sure it had something to do with Kaija. 

Out in the hall, Anna could hear her sister, could hear the scuffle that ensued when she went for Kristoff, her intent to make a mess of his perfectly coiffed hair very clear in the voiced threat she offered. He hollered after her not to forget to take a sandwich, and it was the lightest he’d sounded since they came downstairs. Then there was laughter, and her voice fading as she disappeared.

She was gone when Anna finally emerged.

Ryder was showing Kaija a portrait of King Runard, the young woman’s face scowling much like Kristoff’s did when his mood was sour, and Kristoff caught Anna by the elbow as she began to walk toward them.

“You okay?”

“Confused, but I’m alright. Don’t worry about it. What about you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Will you at least  _ try  _ to talk to her?”

Kritstoff sighed heavily. “Fine. Where, library?”

Smiling, she took his hand, wrapping her fingers around his. “Actually, I have something else planned.” 

* * *

God bless Anna.

All day, he’d dreaded this moment. He was going to have to actually  _ talk _ to Kaija. Really talk. And it would be stuffy and uncomfortable and he would hate every minute of it.

But Anna had somehow arranged for a small bonfire out in the garden. Blankets and pillows were arranged, and the only thing missing was—

“Oh, thank you, guys!” Anna was clapping her hands together as four servants carried in two logs, plopped them down, then disappeared into the night. “And,” she said, drawing out the word, reaching back behind some pillows, “we’ve got this!”

Kristoff never understood how a woman with such small hands could manage two bottles of mead in one hand and four glasses in the other, but he didn’t complain one bit about her dexterity.

“C’mere, Ryder,” she said, grinning as she plopped down, throwing her legs over the log. “I owe you from last time.”

“All you’re going to owe is an apology to yourself in the morning when you wake up still drunk.”

“We’re not drinking  akvavit this time.”

“Yeah, that was stupid.”

“Or, how about one of you admits defeat before you both wind up getting sick? Because I’ll be the one that has to deal with it.” Kristoff threw his hands up, but they ignored him, off to playing some hand game Ryder had taught her years ago.

Kristoff never had the heart to tell her that Ryder, who had spent years in the forest with not much else to do, was more likely to beat her than not.

And they left Kristoff and Kaija more or less to their own devices.

They situated themselves opposite the fire from Ryder and Anna, who were already trading barbs, and he smiled slightly as he watched. 

“She’s one of those rare creatures,” Kaija finally said after a while, “who could get along with the grumpiest of characters, I believe.”

“Well, she cracked me, and I’m about as grumpy as they come.” He crossed his arms over her chest.

To his annoyance, she giggled. “Just like Papa,” she said, shaking her head. “So soft for Mama and I, and salty with everyone else.”

It wasn’t fucking  _ fair.  _ She had memories of them, recalled the things he could, but knew so much more. She’d been with them all her life, and he wondered if she really appreciated that. 

Could she appreciate anything he’d been through, really? Would she ever understand how most of his life had been a growing snowball of  _ unfair, _ until Anna had smashed it to pieces and put it back together in the most beautiful way.

But it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say to her, and the right words weren’t coming out.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, I’m not good at this. If I could get words out right, I wouldn’t have had to propose five times before I finally got it right.”

“Five?” Kaija’s eyebrows shot up, an amused smile quirking her lips.

“Not the point. I’m just saying, I’m not good at stuff like this.”

Kaija considered silently for a moment, staring away into the flames for several long minutes before she spoke again. “I’m not good at this, either,” she said softly. “And if it makes you feel better, it took Papa seven times. He’s not always the best with words. Maybe we can walk?”

Then she was rising, blue dress swirling gracefully around her, almost like she was dancing, and he followed.

Then, just as they reached the edge of the firelight, she paused, walked back to where Anna and Ryder were arguing, and grabbed a second bottle of mead. She shrugged as she walked back. “Sounds like if we don’t take it with us, they’ll drink the whole lot.” A small smile tugged up one side of her mouth. “Who knows, maybe it will make this easier.”

“You seem fine with them.” He nodded back toward Anna and Ryder.

Kaija laughed, the sound so familiar. “It doesn’t take much for someone to be comfortable around Anna.”

“And Ryder?”

Kaija considered quietly for a few steps. “I knew I’d be fine with him.” She shook her head. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it is,” he muttered, and she gave him a look that almost looked guilty.

Several minutes and several pulls from the bottle passed between them before either of them spoke again.

“I guess,” Kaija said slowly, gazing up into the twilight sky as she spoke, “the fairest thing would be for you to ask whatever questions you have.” She shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a lot you want to know.”

Somehow, he hadn’t expected her to be reasonable. Over the years, Kristoff had painted a picture in his mind of Kaija as bitter and vindictive, even a little cruel. Her face didn’t match his expectation. Her brow was furrowed by a deep frown, hands toying with her long hair. Her shoulders were tight and hunched, as if she were weighed down.

For a moment, he studied her a little more closely. Ryder had said she had been operating on little sleep for the last two years, and he could see it in the dark bags under her eyes. The guilt the other man had mentioned was clear in her eyes, the same color and set as his, in how she could not seem to quite meet his gaze. Her forehead seemed permanently wrinkled, and she appeared much older than her twenty one years.

Why? Why put him through this? Why put  _ herself _ through it, if she was so miserable? It was the only thing he could think of, despite the thousands of other questions he’d come up with before now. And again, it wasn't exactly what he wanted to say. 

He asked, anyway.

“Why?” The word popped out on its own, and he left it to hang in the air without any elaboration.

“I wish I had a simple answer for that,” she mused, kicking softly at the gravel as they walked. “I see things. Things that are coming,” she explained, giving him a sideways glance, “but sometimes, other things. I could see where I was supposed to go, but that was as far as anything went. So, I went there.” She shrugged, looking at her feet.

“But why,” he asked slowly, “did you run away? Why did you  _ all _ run away?” It was the thing that had nagged for years, and it was a relief to finally be able to ask. “Why didn’t they ever want to come here, or say where they were?”

Why, he wanted to say, did his own parents not want him?

She hung her head lower now, looking shamefaced at the ground. Tears glistened in her eyes, and her face looked as if she had just put her hand in a fire. “I never told them why,” she said quietly. A single tear trekked down her cheek, and she swiped at it. “I didn’t think I should. I can’t explain it, it’s just a feeling I had. I knew, somehow, things would work out. I could feel it. I just had to get to that place…”

Kristoff stopped in his tracks. She paused, looking back, confused. “So… they have no idea about  _ any _ of this?” He waved vaguely at the castle. 

“No.” She sighed heavily, a sound he recognized as one he made when he felt like he was pulling a loaded sleigh on his own. “I think they can know now, but I just can’t tell you  _ why. _ If I say too much, things can change. My visions can change. It’s happened before, when I was younger, mostly. I had to stop giving them voice, trying to change them. I had to learn to live with knowing that sometimes there are things you can’t stop from happening.”

Her voice sounded haunted, and for the first time, he considered that Kaija’s visions were a source of angst and pain for her, as much as an advantage. He started walking again, and she followed.

“There was just something about  _ that _ one that I wanted so badly. I could feel it was where I was supposed to go, but I never really knew why. But home never felt like home, you know?” She shrugged, and he nodded. He knew the feeling. For years, his only home had been an open valley and a cave, then a small cabin. “This just felt like  _ home.  _ I knew it was hurting you, but it still felt like the best way forward. If it makes you feel better, I’ve felt selfish and guilty for years.” She shook her head slowly. “But I knew you were happy enough, I guess, so that made it a little easier.”

“How did you know that?” His voice was as curious as it was accusatory.

“I would see you, sometimes.” She smiled a little. “I saw you with your wife and your children, and when you were with them, you were almost always smiling. And I could just  _ feel _ it.”

She kept talking, seeming to have found her flow. “It’s been like some sort of floodgate opened. I used to have visions when I slept, at night when I was already under. Then I met you, and it was a constant flow of things I’d never seen before, people I’d never seen. It didn’t stop until a few days ago, when we finally got to the forest. But the flashbacks were worse then, too.”

“Flashbacks?”

Kaija hesitated, like she was afraid she’d said the wrong thing, but then took another deep breath, releasing it with a grimace. “Ever since I can remember—it’s the first thing I remember, actually, now that I think about it—I’ve had this same dream. Papa said it was a flashback. It’s…” She trailed off, grimacing, and Kristoff offered her the bottle. She took a swig. “Thanks. It was the fire. I could hear Mama screaming at you to run, to run as fast as you could, and watching you run off into the woods. For a long time, that’s all it was. It didn’t happen that often, a few times a year, maybe. Then I met you, and they happened more often and they got longer and…”

There was a pause before he prompted her. “And?”

“I know you tried to go back.” Kristoff felt a large lump forming in his throat, and he knew he was going to have to try not to cry. He tried to keep his mind clear as she spoke. “I know you ran until you couldn’t run anymore, that you hid in a cave, and spent two days trying to find Mama and Papa. And then I started to see other things. I think they’ve already happened, or I  _ hope _ they have.” She turned, looking curious now. “Have you always had a beard? Since you were grown, I mean.”

“No.” He laughed at the abruptness of the question. “After Josefine was born, I couldn’t keep up with it anymore, so I just let it grow out.”

“Right.” She seemed to be thinking again, turning things over in her head. “There’s one of Anna,” he didn’t miss the familiarity with which she said the name, “with her hair all white. You looked younger there. You didn’t have a beard, anyway.”

“That was…” He swallowed, then took a drink of the mead. That was one of his least favorite memories, but one he had been dwelling on recently.  _ What if _ he hadn’t been there? “That was a long time ago. Over ten years now. She nearly froze to death.”

“Then the one with a woman. She beat you.” Jesus, was  _ this _ what she saw? Every terrible memory he had? “And then the one with Anna and the blood…” Kaija shuddered.

Kristoff couldn’t help recalling.

_ “I won’t lie and tell you it isn’t serious.” The midwife’s eyes were filled with concern, almost pitiful. “We can deliver the child, certainly, but it’s not going to come easily.” _

_ “Is there anything you can do?” _

_ “The doctor is here, he’s prepared to use forceps.” Kristoff grimaced, feeling tears in his eyes. “I’ve never met one quite so strong or so stubborn as the Queen,” she added, “so bank on that. But you should prepare yourself.” _

_ He walked back into the room. _

_ Blood was everywhere.  _ Everywhere. _ Kristoff had seen horrific injuries, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much blood. That it was coming from Anna made it worse. _

_ Anna was lying still in their bed. The bed where he’d made love to her so many times, where she’d had Mika, where she normally came for respite from the world. She was as white as the sheets and Kristoff was at her side in an instant. Her hand barely moved when he grasped it, and he couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer as the doctor and midwife worked frantically to stop the bleeding. _

_ “Wake up, baby,” he pleaded against her, shaking her hand, her shoulder, anything that usually worked. “Wake up, please. Please, Anna, just wake up.” _

_ From down the bed, he heard, “Keep doing that. Exactly. Keep the pressure while I stitch her up.” _

_ From the opposite corner, he heard one of the two nurses who had been enlisted by the doctor say, “The child is fine.” He could hear crying—their baby, this time. What was it? He wasn’t even sure. “Healthy and strong.” _

_ “Wake up, Anna. I need you to wake up, baby, I can’t do this by myself.” He broke down, praying harder than ever to a God he wasn’t even sure existed, but who certainly couldn’t be so cruel as to take everything away from him, to take Anna away from him. From them. _

_ Then, finally, he saw her fluttering blue eyes manage to open, a small smile on her lips. _

_ “Is she okay?” Anna’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was there. Down the bed, the doctor was breathing a heavy sigh of relief, and Kristoff saw him actually hug the midwife so hard that the little woman was lifted off her feet. _

_ “Is she…” Kristoff trailed off, glancing over at the nurse. “What?” _

_ “The baby.” Anna’s eyes trailed over to where the nurse was turning, eyes wide and brimming with joyous tears at the sound of her Queen’s voice. _

_ “I don’t even know if it  _ is  _ a she.” But he gave a watery laugh with the overwhelming hope he felt in his heart. _

_ Then the nurse was there, smiling happily. “It’s a she, sir. A perfect baby girl.” _

_ “Give her to the Prince Consort,” the doctor ordered. “Her Majesty must stay very still for the moment. Your condition is still serious, ma’am.” _

_ “That’s fine,” Anna murmured, looking at the bundle that had been placed in Kristoff’s arms. _

He blinked.

Kaija was on her knees, eyes rolling in her head. Kristoff felt his stomach lurch as he realized she was having one of her visions. Not sure what to do, he set down the bottle and hoisted her up to her feet. The motion seemed just enough to jar her, and she blinked at Kristoff.

“That one,” she gasped. “God, they just keep happening.” She shook her head in what seemed to be an effort to clear it. “How did she even  _ live _ through that? There was just so much blood…” She sounded haunted.

The wall around his heart was starting to come down as the horror of what Kaija had seen began to truly dawn on him. This was one particular memory that haunted his nightmares, nightmares where Anna didn’t wake up. Nightmares where he lost his wife, then his daughter, eventually his son… 

“I’m still not sure.” He kept a tight hold on her arms, not willing just yet to let go—he didn’t want her to fall. “She’s stubborn, I can tell you that. But it was bad. Jojo didn't come into the world easily. It was months before Anna could even get out of bed. It was exhausting, trying to keep up with the kids and her job and keeping her in bed. She’s not the kind of woman who enjoys sitting still. But she bounced back more quickly than the doctor thought she would. And really, I’ve got nothing to complain about. I was tired, but I wasn’t the one who almost bled out.”

Kaija managed a small smile. “That’s why you grew the beard.”

“I guess so.” He hadn’t thought of it that way before. Then, as she took a cleansing breath and he let go, he wondered something. “Did you have that one right now?”

“Yes.” Kaija looked mildly befuddled, but not overly concerned. “Odd, to have it while we were talking about it.”

“What else?” He needed to know.

Kaija laughed, a little breathless. “They’re all terrible, certainly you don’t want—”

“What else, Kaija?”  _ Had _ to know, he realized.

She thought for a moment. “Anna. She seems to have a lot of brushes with death. There was one where she was running on—what, a dam?”

_ He watched stone crumbling under Anna’s feet, and felt like vomiting when he realized he wasn’t close enough to catch her. There was fear in her eyes—she knew she would fall, but she’d done it, anyway. _

_ Stupid, selfless Anna, why did she have to— _

_ But then Mattias was there, throwing himself forward and reaching, and by a sheer act of God and Anna’s own will power, she was able to catch his hand. _

_ The older man struggled to pull her up, but it was easy for Kristoff, and he pulled her back, away from the edge, a relieved rush of breath leaving him in a woosh as she collapsed against his chest, and he held her so tightly he wondered how she could breathe. _

_ Then her whisper of, “Elsa’s gone,” and his heart was breaking all over again. _

“Shit!” So, Kaija had a mouth on her. He found it oddly comforting.

She was blinking her eyes open again, and she looked frantic. “Oh, no, no, no,” she worried, reaching out to grab his sleeve. “I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I—” She looked around, panicked. “You have to go after Elsa, she’s going to—”

“Elsa already died,” Kristoff interrupted, and Kaija’s mouth snapped closed. “She came back after the dam fell. But we spent a solid hour thinking she was gone.”

They stared for a long time. Kaija looked suspicious now.

“What were you thinking about just now?”

“Just that. Anna let the earth giants destroy the dam, so the forest could be free, even though she knew it would destroy Arendelle to do it..”

“She… what?”

Kristoff sighed. “It’s a lot to explain, but there’s spirits in that forest—”

“I know, Ryder’s told me.”

“They were angry back then. Once Anna made sure the dam was destroyed, the forest was free again. The wrong was righted.”

“And you were thinking about that just now? Just a minute ago?”

He asked another question, instead. “You got any others?”

She was definitely suspicious of him now. “Not that I can remember.”

He thought back, mulling, digging for some horror, buried deep in the back of his brain.

His brow furrowed when he came to it. He hadn’t thought about it in decades, since he’d been young. He tried to forget it, tried not to remember  _ that  _ particular event, but it was still there.

_ It was dark in the woods. Dark and cold and terrifying, but nothing compared to what was behind him. He could hear wolves howling in the distance, and he winced as he kept walking. _

_ He knew there was a bruise on his ankle. The evil hag who masqueraded as the orphanage matron had almost broken his leg throwing him down the stairs. He’d been so sure she was trying to break his neck, something she could easily make look like an accident should anyone investigate. _

_ “Useless little Sámi bastard,” she’d hissed. “Nobody wants someone like  _ you.  _ People want a child who is still and obedient. Stupid fucking boy, I’ll make you still. _ ”

_ He wasn't even sure she knew his name. _

_ It hurt to walk, but he kept going. _

Kaija’s eyes were rolling again, and he realized in that instant that every time over the last two years that he’d recalled some terrible event from his past, something that had been occurring with more frequency as his whole life turned upside down, Kaija was subjected to it, as well.

It was bad enough that they were his, that he’d lived through them. He couldn’t imagine having to watch.

“Wake up, Kaija!” He shook her shoulders, and her eyes fluttered open.

“God, have I had that much to drink?” She sounded disturbed. “What the hell…” 

“What did you see?”

“I saw…” She seemed dizzy, and he held tightly to her shoulders. “I…”

“What did you  _ see?” _ Again, with more force this time. He had to know.

“She didn't just beat you.” Kaija’s eyes were flashing and nostrils flaring a bit, and he realized she was furious. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she was shaking. “She threw you down the fucking stairs? Is that bitch still…”

What if… 

_ “Poor little man,” he mused, playing with Mikael’s impossibly tiny fingers. The baby tried to wrap around one of his father’s but didn’t make it all the way around. _

_ “Why do you say that?” Anna’s feet were tucked up behind her as she leaned against his shoulder, smiling softly. _

_ “He has my nose,” Kristoff said, shaking his head. “Poor kid’s gonna look exactly like me.” _

_ “Which means he’ll have your eyes and your hair and your ears—” _

_ “You’re happy he has my  _ ears?  _ Are you nuts?” _

_ “And I bet he gets tall like you, too.” She grinned up at him. “And I happen to find you very attractive, so I have no problem with that.” _

_ “I was right,” he teased, though it secretly pleased him, too, that the child he’d put in Anna looked exactly like him. “You are crazy.” _

“...shouldn’t be around children!”

Kristoff stared. She was still ranting over the memory of him running away from the orphanage. He pretended to have heard everything she said.

“You never saw that before?”

“No,  _ that,” _ she snarled, and Kristoff felt a strange warming in his heart, “I would remember. Fucking bitch.”

“She died a few years later.” What the  _ hell _ had just happened? It was like she was the mind reader of his horrors. “I don’t really like to think about it. Haven’t thought about it since she died, really.”

“Good.”

He voiced the question that had formed in his mind. “Do you ever see  _ happy _ flashbacks from my life?”

Kaija grew very still, then slowly shook her head. “I never thought about it that way,” she said, as if the words were processing slowly in her mind, “but no. Not flashbacks, anyway. Just regular visions. You’re happy in those. Why?”

“How can you tell the difference? How do you know they’re not flashbacks?”

“I—” Kaija gave him a helpless look. “I swear, I’m not trying to trick you or lie or keep anything to myself, I just can’t explain! I can feel it!”

“Your magic can feel it.” He remembered overhearing those words once from someone else, hearing words similar earlier that night.

Kaija looked startled. “Exactly.” She regarded him as if she was seeing him for the first time, drinking him in. “Not very many people understand.”

“I have a sister-in-law who built an ice palace off the side of a mountain,” he said wryly. “I’ve got a unique perspective.”

“And you love her.” Kaija was thoughtful again.

“I do.” He shrugged, the words slipping from his lips before he could consider them. “She’s my sister.” He wanted to put that right back, felt guilty right away.

But Kaija was nodding in understanding again. “And what if…”

She trailed off, and Kristoff leaned forward. “What if, what?”

“What if you had never met Anna?” Kaija tilted her head. “Would she even be alive? Would Elsa?”

“Would she… Well, sure, she would. They’d be…”  _ Would they?  _ He'd wondered himself.  


Surely, Anna would have been fine. He heard himself rambling. She would have figured it out, she was smart, stubborn, like he’d said. How? Well…

Then he realized the answer to the greatest questions he hadn’t even considered was  _ right there,  _ and had been, all along.

“The trolls,” he murmured.

“What?” Now Kaija was stepping closer. They were less than a foot apart, and she was hanging on to every word of his rant. “What trolls?”

“The—the trolls, you know.” He blinked at her. Had she missed  _ that? _ Although, the trolls weren’t an unhappy memory. They were years of the only happiness he’d had growing up. “God, you didn't see—”

“I thought they were a dream,” she breathed. “And you were never there.” Then she stopped, frowned. “What if we’re talking about different trolls?”

“Describe them.”

“Papa thought they were some kind of cursed rocks,” she laughed. “There was an old one, though. He talked to me. He said he couldn’t see me, but he knew who I was. It didn’t make any sense—”

“But they knew I was looking for you. And you—”

“They kept saying they could see it.” Words were rushing now as blanks filled in and gears started turning more easily. “I didn’t know what  _ it  _ was but—”

“You look almost exactly like me,” he said, waving his arms. “I mean, look at you!”

At this, she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, drawing herself up to her full height for the first time that Kristoff could remember since meeting her. It was a little jarring. He realized that she was always drawn in on herself, but that it wasn’t how she normally stood. 

“That still doesn’t explain,” she said, the physical shift in her eye level suddenly bringing to the realization that she was several inches taller than he’d thought, “how they know you, or what that has to do with Anna.”

“They raised me.”

And then the whole story, which still sounded crazy, came pouring out. He talked and he talked for what felt like an hour, and maybe it was. The sky was darker by the time they finished.

And a small, satisfied smirk was pulling at the corner of Kaija’s mouth.

“What?” What was crazier, Elsa’s ice powers, Anna freezing to death, Elsa freezing to death, or marrying the fucking  _ Queen _ of Arendelle?

“I was right,” she said, and she sounded proud of herself. She’d been mostly quiet while he spoke, stopping to ask the occasional question for what seemed to be the sake of clarity. Then she would nod and he would continue.

“Right about what?”

She stared him down for a long moment, eyes thoughtful. They’d ended up back where they’d started, just outside the circle of the fire, and he could hear Anna laughing hysterically and Ryder animatedly, and drunkenly, describing something. He barely felt the effects of the mead, having gradually sipped at it. And with Anna being Anna, he wouldn’t put it past her to have a third bottle squirreled away.

Kaija’s eyes drifted to Anna, who was clutching her sides while tears rolled down her cheeks while Ryder tried to reenact something without injury. “She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Think about it. How would she have discovered what was needed to save her life? That’s not the sort of thing you guess. A frozen heart?” Kaija scoffed. “Not something that happens every day. And she would have been alone in the wilderness,  _ if _ she’d even have made it that far, which I suppose is possible. 

“But say she made the journey, Elsa would have frozen her heart, however unintentionally,” she added, holding up her hands as Kristoff opened his mouth to argue in the defense of a woman he’d once thought to convict, “then what? Say she survived that, how would she have survived the dam? How would she have known what the destruction of the dam would cause? How would she have gotten there in time?”

“Alright, I get it!” He waved his hands in defeat. “Look, I’m not saying you’re right.” Their elevated voices had earned them an audience, but he didn’t notice. “Maybe you are. We’ll never know. But how does that give you the right to—”

“Because I know,” she interrupted. She made it sound so simple. “Because this is what we do. We’re Bjorgmans.”

He just gaped.

“I’m right. I know it.” Then she smiled. “I never would have found you. How would I have? Mama and Papa ran so far, and you stayed put. You’d be sad then, I’m sure. No wife, no family.” Kaija cocked her head. “They make you very happy.”

Kaija walked over to the log they had abandoned ages ago, inhaled and released a sigh like she was cleansing some demon. “You told me your story.” She turned to Anna with a smile. “I assume you’re familiar with that story.”

“Did he tell you he talks to Sven?” Anna’s words were slurred and broken by giggles.

“And Sven…”

Kristoff sighed. “Is the reindeer.”

But Kaija only nodded and patted the seat again. “Come sit down, and I’ll tell you about Papa and Nils.”

And she talked for ages, longer than Kristoff suspected she had ever spoken in her life, almost as if she were atoning for her sins.

She spoke of how his father talked to Nils, their reindeer, who had long since passed the average age of a reindeer, but who was still incredibly sprightly. How her mother refused to cook reindeer meat out of respect for them both, despite the raised eyebrows from everyone they knew, even old Dure. 

She told him how her mother loved to dance. How their father lived for trips to the edge of the mountains, for the brisk mountain air in his face.

She whispered, with tears streaming down her face, how neither Rikkar or Johánná had ever recovered from losing their son. How Rikkar would become silent and sullen for days at the mere mention of his lost boy. How Johánná never truly gave up hoping that he was still somewhere out there.

She mused how she had never really felt normal or at home with her parents, even though she was loved, because she was never truly understood.

She recalled how she had once dreamed, as a very young girl, about having a big brother, one to play with her, to teach her and watch over her. How finding him had felt like waking from a crazy dream, only to realize it was reality. How, for two years, he had haunted the far reaches of her mind, and how she had dreamed of the forest and Ryder and  _ home. _

How she had blindly trusted fate, which had never let her down before.

There had been breaks for explanations, for apologies, tears, laughter, and so many hugs. And  _ finally,  _ everything made sense, things coming into a perspective he had never been able to consider.

Kaija had never tried to be cruel, only to do what seemed to be the next step, wherever it took her. She was no different than him, really. She could be tough and ill-tempered, but she had a warm heart that wrapped tightly around her family. He had been raised, as Pabbie had said, to do the next right thing, even when it seemed insane, and somehow, Kaija had been raised the same way. 

She was, in so many ways, the same as him.

He had followed a princess up a mountain. She had followed a dream to a forest she’d never seen. He had trusted no one but his family for years, and she still felt the same way. Neither had been particularly optimistic about any great life, and both had been shaken free of that misfortune after two decades on the earth. Both had learned that hope was a brighter beacon than could ever be anticipated, once you were bathed in its light.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, at the same angle as him. She had the same raised eyebrow, same half smirk, same way of rolling her eyes.

Kaija finally came to the end of her story, exhaling in a way that seemed cathartic, downing the rest of her glass of mead in one long gulp. She smiled down at Anna, where she had moved a while ago to sit at his feet, enraptured and more often than not getting in on the hugs, but now dozed against his thigh.

“She’s so very beautiful,” Kaija whispered, almost as if in wonder. “Mama will  _ never _ believe you married that Queen of Arendelle. Not until she sees it with her own eyes.” She smiled, her eyes the color of warm honey in the firelight. “Any questions?”

And the only thing he could think of still to ask was, “So, you’re _ not _ sleeping with Ryder?”

Kaija laughed when Ryder spluttered and Anna knocked his knee out from under him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Sister is working from home, and for some reason, her two small children don't seem to want to allow her to get through three hours of meetings without interruption. They do not particularly enjoy sitting for long periods of time, and are happiest when they are free to run outdoors. As such, I've been on more frequent babysitting duty. I love them more than life itself, and damn, do they have the ability to exhaust a human being. To those of you who have children, I salute you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: Between a long awaited reunion and a soliloquy by Elsa, this chapter is super long. I couldn’t find a break, and it morphed into this. It’s the last one before the epilogue, so I just let it have its way. 
> 
> There's a little touch of smuff at the end, if I can call it that, so probably NSFW. Otherwise, mostly family fun and love, because we all need love right now.

Suddenly leaving Arendelle was not as difficult as Anna had anticipated. With spring always came the arrival of any number of dignitaries, and her job always ramped up. But no ruler could do their job if some great, unknown spectre hung over their heads, and so Anna again called on her general to step into her shoes for two weeks.

“I’ll be fine,” she had said, one eye on Mattias and one eye on the two giggling children hanging from Sven.

“I know you will.” Mattias had stood with his back rail straight, hands clasped behind him. “You’ve always been able to hold your own. Just don’t go jumping from any dams, and you’ll be good.”

“And if I have to?” She’d grinned impishly. 

“Make sure Kristoff’s not far.” Mattias had then glanced over to where Kristoff was making their final preparations. “And you look out for him, too,” the older man had murmured. “Take care of each other, Your Majesty. And know that if you’re two days late, I’m coming up after you.”

That had been two days ago. Now, the long twilight hung around them, and though Anna could feel the excitement bubbling in her veins with every step Sven took, she was sure she could hear Kristoff’s heart from her place at his side.

She knew they were nearly to the forest. Soon, they would come around a cliff side on the narrow road. Soon, they would see the trees emerging from the semidarkness. And maybe soon, she would get some answers from Elsa.

Anna knew once they arrived everything would change, even more so than it already had. Their arrival was expected, after all, and every time they visited, they were met with the sight of their friends waiting and waving. Except this time, it wouldn’t necessarily be only friends.

Kaija had sent a short note on the wind to her parents, promising that she would give her explanation on her arrival, but finally telling them the edge of the truth, that she had found her brother. There had been no response, which had worried Kristoff, but Kaija insisted their parents were better readers than writers. She had been clearly anxious to return home, not ever having spent so long away from her parents. 

Bringing the children had been the subject of some debate. Kristoff had wanted to leave them with Mattias, but Anna had insisted they should come, that Rikkar and Johánná should meet their grandchildren.

When Mikael had been born, Anna had made a promise never to keep things from her children, and she made Kristoff promise, too. The words had seemed easy seven years ago, holding her tiny son in her arms while he dozed. Now, though, they were proving harder to live up to. They had already agreed to tell the children about the real reason for their father’s perpetual absences either when they found the Bjorgmans, or five years, whichever came first. Now, Kristoff wanted verification with his own eyes, and Anna thought he was being overly cautious. 

They’d spent two days arguing when they thought no one could hear. Kristoff was concerned about getting their hopes up only to be let down again. Anna was concerned he was being overly cautious and paranoid. The compromise was that the children would come, but that they would treat it like any other visit until they arrived.

Mikael seemed to buy it. Josefine had given them a look much too old for her little face as she raised an eyebrow, then rolled her eyes.

“But we _just_ saw Aunt Elsa. We never go to the forest just to see her when she was just here.” Her little eyes had narrowed with suspicion. “Why are we really going?”

“She had to go home so quickly,” Kaija had said, jutting out her lip in a childlike pout that had made Josefine smile. “We didn't get to spend any real time with all of us together.”

The words had worked, and Josefine had been pleased. She was far too smart, Anna thought, for a five year old. 

But she was right.

Kaija had proven a blessing in distracting the children. Mikael and Josefine were already very attached to their newly found aunt, and Kaija was likewise enamored. She was already especially close with Josefine, the pair of them often whispering and giggling, caught in their own little world.

A small bump in the road brought her back to her present, to the warm arm she had wrapped her own around, the strong shoulder she leaned against. 

Anna and Kristoff had been married for eight years, at each other’s sides for over a decade. She knew him almost as well as she knew herself. They weren’t the same people they had been when they had met, but growth was to be expected over so much time. The ways of the world were less of a mystery now than they had been on that cold night she had left the castle to find her runaway sister, and it was greatly thanks to Kristoff that she had grown into the woman she was.

He had changed, as well. He laughed more and seemed happier than ever, but with each passing year, his increasingly infrequent periods of brooding became deeper and darker. Anna knew Kristoff had been living more or less in the tortured thoughts of his own mind for the last two years.

She felt that tension in the unyielding rigidity of his muscles as she leaned against him. Turning her head, she pressed her lips quickly to his shoulder, tightening her grasp and shifting closer on the seat. “You okay?” 

“I’m so nervous.” Anna felt the measured rise and fall of his chest and knew he was working to keep his breathing steady. “What if they don't recognize me or want to see me?” She scoffed openly at that. “What if they’re mad at me?”

“What if you were in their shoes, and it was Mika or Jojo?” She glanced back to where the two little ones were curled up, fast asleep and miles away in their dreams, opposite the wagon from where Kaija and Ryder slept, leaning against each other.

“I would just be so happy to see them, but—”

“And they will be happy to see _you.”_ She kissed her bicep pillow before putting her head back down. “Remember, you’re a lot like them, even though they didn’t raise you. They’re good people. Kaija proves that, if nothing else. She’s not concerned about it at all, so you shouldn’t be worried, either.”

It was quiet for a while after that. Anna thought Kristoff needed it, so she let him have it. It certainly wouldn’t be quite on their arrival. Anna felt the nerves knotting up her stomach. She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, not wanting him to worry further, but what if they hated _her?_ Not likely, he’d insisted, but the Sámi weren’t huge fans of royalty, or mainstream society in general. The Bjorgmans certainly wouldn’t be, after losing their son from actions by said society, however wrong Anna believed those actions to be.

She was out of time though, she realized, for worrying.

Their breathing picked up as they came around a corner to the short plain between the mountains at their backs and the forest ahead. It was as beautiful as she had ever seen it, the fresh green buds of new life visible even in the half-light. There was the sound of laughing, and she heard a familiar voice—Honeymaren, she realized—calling her name. She was waving wildly, and Anna could see her smile from here.

“Ready?” she murmured.

“Ready or not,” Kristoff said, his voice low and heavy, “here we come.” He jerked his head back, eyes scanning the smiling faces that were growing closer, clearly looking for some face that, though new to this crowd, he nevertheless recognized. “Want to wake those two up? Leave the kids for now.”

Carefully, Anna climbed back over the bench, crouching next to Kaija and shaking her shoulder gently. “Hey, time to wake up.” She kept her voice low, trying not to wake the sleeping children in the opposite corner. “Time to wake up, we’re here!”

Nothing. Kaija slept like the dead, apparently. It made sense. She wasn’t used to a comfortable bed or fineries, and the bed of blankets in the back of the wagon probably felt like home to her.

“Oh, for heaven’s—” Giving up, she climbed over two pairs of legs to Ryder. Ryder, who was used to sleeping on a pallet of furs that, while comfortable, was nevertheless on the ground.

It took several more tries before Ryder finally stirred, recognizing his surroundings and moving to wake Kaija. Anna watched, an amused smile tugging at her lips, as Kaija grumblingly blinked herself awake, stretching long arms above her head and grimacing up at Ryder.

Anna felt the wagon lurch to a stop, heard a sudden hush come over the other voices that had joined Honeymaren’s. A quick check saw Mikael and Josefine still sleeping soundly. Climbing back over the bench, she followed Kristoff’s gaze.

The first person Anna met eyes with was Yelena. The old woman stood still, gazing out toward Anna with a smile on her face. And at her side was another woman, one Anna had never met, but whom she knew instantly.

Someday, when Kaija was older, Anna thought she would likely maintain the same astonishing beauty as the woman standing on the edge of the woods. Anna could see instantly that Kristoff and Kaija really did look like their mother. Her features in the lingering sunset were almost ethereal. Her hair was even longer than Kaija’s, but it was the same golden color. The only difference, other than age, was height. She was a tiny woman, not nearly as tall as Kaija, probably not even taller than Anna, but her legs carried her quickly toward them, almost as if she was dancing. 

The woman stood a few meters from the wagon and Sven, her brown eyes as wide and round as a full moon. She glanced quickly toward Kaija and Ryder, hopping down easily and starting to cross to her, for just a moment before her gaze went back to Kristoff, who was climbing down more slowly, staying close to Sven. She looked like she was stuck between disbelief and relief. One delicate hand rested over her heart, as if she were trying to contain it in her chest. Her eyes glimmered slightly with unshed tears as she took a careful, hesitant step forward, her free hand reaching toward the space between them, almost as if she were afraid.

Kaija and Ryder crossed to her side, and the woman reached now for Kaija, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and Anna could see that she was so petite that she needed to go up onto her toes to reach her own child. Kaija looked like she was somewhere between overjoyed and wanting to throw up, but the older blonde patted her cheek softly and smiled. She whispered something to Kaija, words Anna didn’t understand, and Kaija nodded hesitantly in reply. Kaija glanced back toward Kristoff, and Anna watched as her sister-in-law stepped behind the older woman and gave her a gentle push forward, smiling slightly as she did so.

Anna climbed down carefully, making her way around to stand next to Sven, not quite wishing to interrupt what was about to happen. Her eyes moved to her husband now, and she felt her heart ache.

Anna had seen Kristoff cry before. He had cried in her arms the night she’d agreed to marry them, that time from relief that they were alive. When Josefine was born, he had broken down at the thought of living without Anna, of raising their children alone. Later, he had wept with joy that his wife would live to see their daughter grow, even as he had held the tiny infant to her mother’s breast when Anna herself had been unable.

These tears were something else. They were happiness and pain and fear and excitement and disbelief and the absolute joy of _knowing._ They trekked silently down his cheeks, his eyes glued on his mother, taking her in for the first time in decades.

It was suddenly very quiet again as the woman stepped closer to Kristoff, almost as if he were an animal she was trying not to spook, stopping within arm’s reach of him. The dozen or so gathered people were watching in heightened anticipation.

For a moment, no one moved. Anna wasn’t even sure anyone was breathing. She certainly wasn’t. And then, very slowly, the woman—Anna knew she had to be Johánná—reached up her hands to touch Kristoff’s face. She ran her delicate fingers over his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his ears, through his hair, and all the while, her own silent tears tracked down her cheeks, which were wrinkled up from the enormous smile on her face.

She whispered something again in that language with which Anna was unfamiliar, but whatever she said, it made Kristoff choke on several large sobs before Johánná’s arms were wrapping around his shoulders.

“I ran, Mama,” he managed, sounding like there was hardly a breath in his body for the words, sounding like he was five years old again. “I ran as fast as I could and I’m sorry, I should have come back, I—” He sounded almost as if he were choking, his face burying into the shoulder of his mother. His arms curled around her, grasping on as if he were petrified to let go.

“It’s alright, my love,” Johánná whispered, and Anna could feel the hot track of her own tears down her cheeks. Kristoff’s sobs, the sight of her strong husband reduced to a puddle, made it that much harder to control her own. Johánná was still murmuring. “You’re here now, my darling, _I’m_ here.” She ran one hand soothingly up and down her son’s back as he sobbed into her arms, his knees giving out until he was slumped against her on the ground. “I’m right here. My brave, _brave_ boy,” she whispered, her voice fierce as she spoke around her own tears, her fingers running through his hair, “I am _so_ proud of you.”

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed out again. “I’m so sorry.” And now _Anna_ was choking back sobs as she watched her husband, rocking gently in his mother’s arms.

“No, my love,” Johánná murmured. “You must not be sorry. You made it back to me, that is all that matters.”

Another voice now called out, some greeting Anna had never heard before, and a large man emerged from the group. He was darker in complexion and coloring than Kristoff, but his nose had the exact curve, his shoulders equally broad and his height impressive.

Clearly, the Bjorgman siblings got their height from their father. Anna blinked, managing to find some focus. She was sure Rikkar was at least as tall as Kristoff, maybe taller, and he was broad, years of hard work evident in the powerful set of his shoulders. His eyes were wide and disbelieving as he stared at his wife and son across the clearing.

Johánná was laughing now, the elated sound only a mother separated from and reunited with her child could make. Her face split with another bright smile as she chivvied Kristoff up onto his feet again, whispering in his ear and pointing, and he didn’t stay at her side for very long once his eyes found his father. Johánná laughed as she pushed him forward, hopping and skipping as much as running after Kristoff’s long strides.

Where his meeting with his mother had been gentle, the one with his father was anything but. The two men barreled toward each other, laughing and smiling and crying through their beards, meeting in the middle in an embrace like two boulders colliding. Rikkar was lifting Kristoff off his feet as if he weighed nothing, laughing with delight when his son did it right back.

“Look at you,” Rikkar finally said, his hands holding Kristoff’s beaming face close to him. “ _Look_ at you! My boy, my son!” He grinned. “I’d know that nose anywhere, you poor boy.” He thumped Kristoff’s shoulder, seeming to be attempting to hold back more tears. “My boy,” he was whispering again as their little group stopped next to the merry pair. “My _boy,_ my son.” Then, as gently as if Kristoff were a bubble about to pop, Rikkar ran his hands over his son’s hair, cupping his head softly with his large hands. Anna felt another tug at her heart as she recognized the same look in Rikkar’s eyes that Kristoff often gave their children, the same gentleness that surprised so many, but never her. “Grown into such a man.”

As she stepped closer, Kaija and Ryder now at her side, Anna could see that he was, in fact, just a little taller than Kristoff, if only by a few hairs. She could see that Rikkar’s shoulders had the same set as his son’s, that he had the same wide hands and thick fingers.

Then he was pulling his son back in for another tight hug, pulling on his wife to tug her in between them. Johánná pulled Kaija along, and all four of them more or less collapsed to the ground in a tangle of arms and reaching hands and soft laughter.

Anna had wrapped her arms around herself, still standing back a bit. She didn’t think Kaija had written anything to her parents about Kristoff having a wife and children, and while Anna didn’t begrudge her that, she also didn’t know quite what to do with herself, or the feelings bubbling out of her eyes. She felt a warm arm wrap around her shoulders, and she glanced up to see Ryder, his face wet with his own tears as he watched the reunion in front of them. He smiled, understanding in his brown eyes, and she gave his waist a squeeze in thanks.

It was a long time before any of the Bjorgmans moved. Yelena had crossed to their side now, and she smiled softly at Anna. Anna let herself be pulled into the circle of Yelena’s arms for a few minutes before the woman cleared her throat, patted Anna on the back, and returned to the group assembled on the edge of the forest.

She put on a brave face, but she knew Yelena had a soft spot for their entire family, especially for Kristoff, that had grown over the years. She was stingy with her joy, but Anna could see it in her eyes.

The movement seemed enough to remind the little family that they weren’t exactly alone, and Anna grinned at her husband when his head popped out of the mess, his bright eyes darting immediately to hers. He partially extracted himself, though his mother still held on tightly to one of his hands. Anna couldn’t blame her. If it were her own child, she wasn’t sure she’d _ever_ be able to let go.

Anna had been strangely pleased to be a spectator so far, so she was a little jarred when Kristoff suddenly grabbed her hand, pulling her close to his side. Johánná stared at her in awe. “Kristoff,” she whispered, “you brought a girl?”

He burst out laughing, and Anna could hear and see the relief wash through him. “Some time, I’ll tell you why that’s so funny.” He squeezed Anna, kissing her cheek and making her blush, because, oh, _God,_ now she had in-laws to blush in front of. “Mama, this is my wife. This is my Anna.”

“Your _wife,”_ Johánná breathed, reaching over for Anna’s hand with her free one. “Oh, my darling, you’re so very lovely.” A new kind of smile that lit her face and Anna felt her cheeks flush with the pleasure of being on its receiving end. “Oh, you’re so fine.” Anna knew she was dressed much more casually than she normally was, but she felt a little self conscious of the quality of the clothes on her back as Johánná’s fingers ran along the fabric.

Then Johánná looked more closely at Kristoff. “Oh, you’ve done so _well,_ my darling,” she murmured to him, and he blushed. “How fine you _both_ look.” She patted at Kristoff’s vest, seeming to straighten it even as her eyes filled again with tears. “So handsome.” Tilting her head back, she gazed at her son again, almost like she couldn’t help herself. “Kaija didn’t say—you seem to have done well, anyway.” 

Anna gave her husband a raised eyebrow when he pleaded with big brown eyes. “Nope, you’re on your own.” She smiled, squeezing Johánná’s hand, pleased when the older woman squeezed back and beamed up at her. “I’m only going to say that we met under very unusual circumstances, and that I owe him my life.”

“Did you rescue a damsel?” Johánná teased. “Some important duchess or other?” She was clearly laughing, and Rikkar chuckled at that.

“No, Mama.” Kristoff grinned. “I rescued a princess.” Rikkar and Johánná stopped laughing and stared. “Well, she _was_ a princess. Not anymore.” More silence. “She’s…” Another hopeful gaze from him and another head shake from her, and he took a deep breath. “Anna is…”

_“Queen_ Anna,” Johánná breathed. “Oh, my…” Then she leveled a look at Kaija, eyebrows raised and arms folded, though her eyes still sparkled. “My goodness, Kaija, what else did you leave out?” Kaija hung her head, and Anna finally saw Johánná frown. “Darling, I was teasing. What…”

Tears were rolling down Kaija’s face now. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she whispered. “I…” The sobs that came from her chest sounded painful.

“Oh, my lamb,” Johánná murmured, “there is no more for you to be sorry for than there has ever been.” She let go of Kristoff and Anna to wipe the tears from Kaija’s face. “You brought your brother home.” She smiled warmly, and Kaija managed her own weak, watery smile in return. “I could never ask for more than that. There _is_ nothing more than that.”

“But mama—”

Rikkar shook his head. “Not now, my love,” he said, wrapping his arm around his younger child and kissing her head. “Your mother is right. It’s naught that need to be worried about right now. All I care is that I can hold both of my children tonight.”

Anna finally burst into open sobs of her own, and the hugging started all over again, this time with her squeezed against Kristoff’s side.

“Papa?” A voice carried from the back of the wagon, sounding confused. “Mama?”

Kristoff’s head immediately snapped toward the sound of Josefine’s voice and Johánná’s eyes followed, widening again.

“Kristoff,” she whispered, and she sounded like she couldn’t believe her ears, “is that… Do you…” 

“Wait here,” he said, grinning in a way that must have been almost painful. Johánná’s eyes were watering again as she nodded, her own smile lighting up her face as if she were a little girl trying chocolate for the first time.

Pulling Anna behind him, Kristoff made his way quickly back to the wagon, back to their own children. Josefine was sitting up, rubbing her eyes and looking confused.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Kristoff plucked her from the makeshift bed the children had built for themselves. “Did you have a nice nap?”

“I was dreaming.” She sounded dozy, and Anna smiled as she carefully roused Mikael. The little boy was rubbing his eyes, coming quickly around as he took in the change in his surroundings. Just like his father, Mikael could be on his feet and ready to go at a moment’s notice, but Josefine was usually a little slower to rouse.

Kristoff was humming as he wrapped his arms around her, settling her against his side as the red mop of hair fell against his neck. “Good dreams?” She nodded, blue eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Are we here?” Mikael held tightly to Anna’s hand as she walked them back around the wagon.

“Yes,” she whispered, grinning excitedly as she watched Rikkar and Johánná’s expressions shift to overwhelming joy. “And there’s someone we want you to meet.”

* * *

Kristoff kept glancing at Kaija while Anna laughed with his mother over some story or other. He knew that his sister was much more like him than he had realized at first, and seeing it first hand was rather remarkable. With her friends and family, she was warm,often teasing, but in a group of relative strangers, she became more withdrawn.

It was nothing, though, to the amazing sight, one he had begun to doubt he would ever see again, of his parents.

It was so strange, how it felt like almost no time had passed. His mother’s laugh was exactly how he remembered it, and he felt his heart bursting at the frequency of its being directed at Anna’s animated stories about their children. He knew it would be difficult for Anna to return to Arendelle when the time came, but he also knew his mother would be a frequent visitor.

His father’s voice was low and gruff, lower than his own, but Kristoff could recognize himself in the sparkle in the older man’s dark eyes, the way his bushy beard often hid the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile. At one point, they found themselves on the receiving end of the laughter from his wife and mother when Anna pointed out that they were sitting in precisely the same pose. A glance to his side, met by his father, showed that she was right. They all laughed at the pair of them, shoulders hunched and arms crossed, booted feet kicked out in front of them, letting the fire do its work.

But as much as it felt like no time had passed, it was clear that so much had.

Kaija was different with them than she was with anyone else. Where she had seemed overall mild mannered with a hint of the underlying loudier and sassier girl beneath when he’d first met her, Kristoff could see just how wicked of a sense of humor she had in the presence of Rikkar. They traded barbs as delightedly as they traded jokes and stories. With their mother, she was equally affectionate, but in a quieter way. His mother was the hugger of the family, often giving her daughter warm, almost absent minded pats on the head or quick side hugs. 

He also noticed, even more so than he already had, how Kaija and Ryder seemed in each other’s orbit, always within arm’s reach as if each couldn’t stand to be more than a few feet away from the other. When Kaija moved to sit by her mother, Ryder moved to sit by her side. When Josefine clambered up onto her lap, Ryder shifted to the ground to allow her the space, but never left Kaija’s side. Knowing what he now knew, he couldn’t begrudge them that, but he felt a little better when, more than once, he noticed how his father watched them closely out of the corner of his eye. Once, when Kristoff caught him, Rikkar simply shrugged and smiled.

And many times, he caught his mother swiping tears from her face when she looked at him, saw a faraway look in the deep brown pools of his father’s eyes, like he was trying to discern whether he was awake or asleep.

He still couldn’t believe it was real.

Eventually, as the twilight faded further but never completely, the crowd dwindled as others went about the business of getting ready for the evening. A few of the elders stayed, trading their own stories and musing on the beauty of life. He moved to where Kaija still sat with the now-sleeping Josefine’s head in her lap, absently brushing at her red hair. Kaija blinked and smiled at him, but stayed still. Kristoff smiled back, gesturing to his daughter. “You’re good with them.”

“Thanks.” Kaija’s eyes were warm as she moved her gaze down to Josefine’s slack jawed face. “She dreams, you know.” 

“Everybody dreams,” he said, a little confused. “I dream, you dream—” Then he stopped mid sentence. _Kaija dreamed…_

“And sometimes it’s the same thing,” Kaija reminded him, “but sometimes my dreams aren’t dreams. Jojo _dreams.”_ Kristoff blinked. “There’s never been a Bjorgman woman that wasn’t a seer. You just haven’t noticed yet.”

Kristoff thought back. Josefine had always been the wilder of the two children, and it followed that she dreamed the same way. She had dreams of piles of ice cream, of riding Sven, of playing in Aunt Elsa’s mountains of snow.

But sometimes, she would say, out of the blue, “I had a dream about this.” It always sounded too serious for a child so young, but he had never thought twice about it. Like everyone else, he had those moments from time to time, but Josefine would _insist_ it was a real dream. He never argued, just smiled and held her close and thanked God every day she was alive.

Now, he wondered.

Kaija was smirking. “Or maybe you have.”

“How do _you_ know?” Kristoff raised his eyebrows.

“Because she told me.” Kristof blinked quickly again, realizing he hadn’t been right with what was on her mind, afterall. “Not that she sees things, but how she dreams. She looked at me the other day and told me she’d had a dream of all of us, happy in the forest, and wondered if that’s where we were going. It was before you told them they were coming with us, so how would she have known? She didn’t know about her grandparents, or that this is where they are, or any of it. But that’s what she dreamed of.”

“Huh.” Kristoff reached over to brush some of the mess of red hair from his youngest’s face. “Josefine dreams.”

“That she does.”

Kristoff stared down at his daughter for a long time before he whispered, hearing the fear in his voice, “Does it… Can it…” His brow furrowed with frustration.

“You can’t stop it.” Kaija ran gentle fingers over the soft red hair. “You can only try to keep her from drowning. Fortunately,” she added, smiling wryly, “I can help you with that. Barring anymore huge family secrets, I think she’ll be fine.”

Reaching out, Kristoff brushed back a few wild strands, sighing softly. “Guess that’s one more reason we needed you.” At the sensation of his familiar hand, her little eyes fluttered and she shifted around so that she was sprawled across both of them, staying dead asleep the entire time, and Kristoff rolled his eyes while Kaija stifled laughter. “This is what she does,” he muttered. “Just like her mother, has to be sprawled over anything she can find.” Carefully, he scooped Josefine into his arms. “I’m going to put her down,” he said, raising his voice just enough that Anna could hear him from across the fire.

“Can you take this one, too?” Anna’s voice had shifted to just above a whisper. She gestured to the sleeping mess of blonde and wool at her side. Mikael had fallen asleep on the ground between Anna and his mother, and Johánná was smiling while she rested a hand on the boy’s blonde head.

“He looks just like you, my love,” she murmured softly, and Kristoff felt his heart expand again. How his chest hadn’t exploded yet remained a mystery. “Such a handsome boy, like his Papa.” Her head tilted all the way back to smile up at him as he reached their sides. “Such pretty babies you made, Kristoff.” Her eyes sparkled as she nudged Anna’s side lightly and winked, and Anna giggled while she blushed.

Blushing himself, he reached down, carefully scooping up Mikael. Then, glancing between both children and the closed door of their _lavvu,_ he looked back at his wife. “A little help?”

“What would you do without me?” Anna teased, rising to her feet and immediately tripping over the log. Before she had a chance to get very far, Kristoff had leaned back, sticking out a leg and halting her fall. Once she was righted, giggling again, he carefully eased himself back to standing. He could see his mother nodding, as if impressed.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way. And anyway, what would _you_ do without _me?”_

Not wanting to risk waking their sleeping children, they quieted once they were safely ensconced in the curved walls of the warm space. Carefully, Kristoff handed Josefine down to Anna before just as carefully maneuvering Mikael to his own soft bed of furs and blankets on the ground. Other than a scrunch of his face when his shoes were removed, Mikael didn't rouse when Kristoff settled him. He kissed first his son, then his daughter, before rising back to his feet. Anna stayed a few moments longer, stroking back Josefine’s mess of hair and dropping a kiss on her forehead. She stared down at Mikael for a long time before Kristoff realized she was crying quietly.

“Hey,” he murmured, reaching down for her shoulders. She rose to meet him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and taking a few deep, shuddering breaths. “Baby,” he murmured, “what’s wrong?”

“We are so lucky,” Anna whispered against his chest, and he pulled her a little tighter against his chest. “I love you so much, and I’m so happy, I just…” She sniffled and laughed a little, the sound wet. “I’m _so_ happy right now.”

They stayed that way for a while, his arms around her waist, her head pillowed on his chest, staring down at the two little miracles they had created together. After a while, she whispered, “We really do make pretty babies.”

“ _You_ make pretty babies,” he clarified. “My job is way less strenuous.”

“Not true.” Anna turned her head in, kissing his chest over his tunic. “You’re my Prince Consort, but you’re their Papa, and we both know which job is more important.” She raised an eyebrow, but he just smiled. “I don’t know how you manage to do it all and still have every afternoon with them.”

“Not _every_ afternoon.” Not by choice.

“Most, then.” She took another breath, seeming to inhale him as she did so. “Do you know how much I love you for that?”

“I do what I can.”

It was quiet again. Then, “You could do it on your own, you know. If you had to.” Kristoff made a face. “It wouldn’t be easy, but you could do it.”

“So could you.”

“Doubtful. Hopefully, we’ll never have to find out.” Anna’s fingers were tight as she grasped his shoulders. “I don’t ever want to have to learn to live without you.”

They were still for a long moment as they watched two little chests rise and fall, stifling laughter at Josefine’s little snores.

“Kaija said Josefine sees things,” he murmured against Anna’s hair, a little hesitant, but feeling that she needed to know, in that moment. “She knew we were coming here.”

Anna was contemplative for a moment as she leaned back, cocking her head slightly as she surveyed the snoozing red haired child. She took in a deep breath and released it slowly, then smiled slightly. “Yep, it’s finally happened.”

Kristoff felt his brow furrow with confusion. “What?”

“Nothing surprises me anymore.” Anna simply shook her head and smiled. “Good thing we have your sister.” Then she was stepping back, squeezing his hands before she stepped softly toward the opening again. “Let’s go, before they wake up.”

They had no sooner stepped out, his parents smiling and waving them back toward the fire, when a rush of wind and snow swirled around them, and he heard Elsa’s voice whisper in his ear, “Come to the beach with Kaija.”

Then it was gone.

Anna was frowning. “What was that?”

Kristoff blinked. “You didn’t hear it?”

“Hear what?”

Damn, he realized, Elsa was getting good. He felt a little proud.

“Elsa,” he murmured. “She wants me to take Kaija to the beach. No idea why,” he added, knowing she would ask.

Anna just shook her head again. “Yep, nothing surprises me.” She smiled up at him as she wrapped an arm around his waist. “What do you need me to do?”

It was odd, how he’d always been the one to be at her side to offer assistance, and how it now seemed to be an equaled sentiment. He supposed that was what marriage really was, when it was based on love. They each made the other a little stronger, a little better, every day.

“Keep my parents occupied?”

“No problem.” She beamed as they stepped within earshot of his—their—family. “Kaija, your brother has come to kidnap you. Kristoff,” she said, making her voice stern as she tilted her head back to look up at him, “if you don’t bring her back in one piece, I’ll show you what real misery is.” She pointed a little finger up for emphasis, and he chuckled as he grinned down at her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And it would also be very nice if you could drag my sister back here.” Anna rested her hands on her hips, and he heard his father chuckle. “That’s an order from your Queen.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And post haste, if you _don’t_ mind.”

Rikkar was now laughing openly, hands slapping against his knees. “You’d best listen to her, boy,” he managed through his laughter. “If there is one thing in life that is a certainty, it’s that a wife’s job is not to be servile. It’s her job to keep your sorry ass in line.”

Johánná hoisted her chin and raised her eyebrows at him. “You say that now,” she said, and Kristoff noted how imperious her tone was. He remembered that tone, one that allowed for no refusal from either father or son. “But any time I tell you to get washed up,” she continued, rolling her eyes, “it’s like I’ve asked you to walk on knives.”

“I’ve heard about that!” Anna exclaimed, plopping down next to his mother and taking her hand. “It took years to get Kristoff to take a bath at least every other day!”

“Come on,” Kristoff muttered, reaching down to tug his sister up, “let’s go, before she really cuts loose.”

They walked for a while in relative quiet, the sounds of laughter fading behind them, as Kaija blindly followed his lead. It was a while before she finally asked, “Where are we going?”

Kristoff chuckled. “There’s a beach on the edge of the sea not far from here. Elsa said to go there.”

“Elsa said?” He could hear the incredulity in Kaija’s voice without looking. “When did she… why did she…” 

“I have no idea why.” He heard Kaija’s footsteps pause, and he turned to see her standing at the edge of the woods, looking pensive. “What’s wrong?”

Slowly, as if trying to clear it, Kaija shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Did you see something?” He didn’t think she was having one of her visions, but he was still learning.

“A while ago.” Her head suddenly went back as she looked at the sky, but she gestured for him to keep going. She followed while casting looks around, her gaze suddenly unreadable.

They reached the place where Elsa had said to go, and not to his surprise, he saw nothing.

Kaija looked befuddled. “But, I thought—” She stopped mid sentence, mouth hanging open and finger pointing out over the darkened sea.

There, lit in an almost otherworldly fashion by the twilight, very appropriate given the magical horse she rode while her icy white dress fluttered behind her, was Elsa. She reached the shore quickly, and Kristoff only half wondered where she’d been. Smiling, she slid from her watery steed, which disappeared into the gentle waves at her bare feet. She was bubbling with excitement, the words flowing from her lips with no introduction or explanation.

“I wondered about something,” Elsa said, stepping lightly over the smooth stones and pebbles under her feet. She was beaming at Kaija, who had managed to close her mouth, though she still looked shocked. “There's things you keep to yourself—so many things—that you don't have to anymore.” Kaija's eyes narrowed, but Elsa kept smiling. “Your life has never been easy, Kaija. You live with a burden every day, and it taxes you. Believe me when I say I understand. And please believe me when I say that you are completely right when I say there are no coincidences.”

Kaija looked confused. “How do you know…” She seemed to be contemplating something. “How could you know that?”

“I've seen it, Kaija.” Elsa looked almost amazed at her own words.

“But you’re not a seer,” Kaija said slowly, “are you?”

Elsa didn’t seem to hear her. She was pacing the beach now, her eyes wild as the fine stones crunched under her bare feet. “I looked for the answer to the question that's been plaguing at your mind for two years. You have always been the only one. You've never felt completely understood. Your parents are angels who love you and help you, but you can't understand the weight until you carry it yourself.

“So, what if? Imagine a world where Kristoff came home. You may never have been born, or your life would be very different if you had. I would be dead, because Anna would have never been there to save me, because she would never have met Kristoff. Even if she had, if he'd been raised with you and your parents instead of the trolls, how would he have ever found out how to save her?”

“So,” Kaija asked, “my family’s pain was to save your family?” She sounded confused.

Elsa shook her head, blonde hair flying around her shoulders with the almost frantic motion. “Kaija, this has never been about me or you. It’s not about your family or my family. It’s _us._ All of us, together. _This_ is how it’s supposed to be. It’s supposed to be _our_ family. _”_

Elsa stopped pacing, standing in front of Kaija, now. Her eyes were looking at Kaija with an understanding he’d never seen, not even when she looked at Anna. Elsa had always been her own entity, and his brian slowly turned over the idea that she wasn’t completely alone, not anymore. And if she wasn’t alone, it meant that neither was Kaija.

“If there had never been a fire, Kristoff wouldn’t have gotten lost. If he’d never gotten lost, he never would have wound up being raised by trolls.” Elsa beamed at him. “If you’d been at that trading post five minutes earlier or five minutes later, you never would have met Anna. If you never met Anna, you would never have been able to take her to the trolls and figure out how to keep her from dying.”

“What if she’d found you on your own?” Kristoff was curious how thought out this was.

“If she’d gone on her own, she would have either frozen to death, or Hans would have found her.” Elsa’s eyes narrowed. “We both know how _that_ would have ended, no matter what the scenario.”

“I don’t understand,” Kaija said, her voice slow with her attempt to process Elsa’s words. “Who is Hans again?”

“He’s the one who left Anna to die,” Kristoff said, hearing the bitterness in his voice and making no attempt to hide it. “He would have killed Elsa and taken over the kingdom if it hadn’t been for Anna.”

“And Anna wouldn’t have known to do that if she’d never met Pabbie,” Elsa explained. “Pabbie was the one who told her I’d frozen her heart.” Elsa winced now. “I would have killed her. If she’d ever made it home, Hans would have just let her die. If he’d found her before or after, he would have found some way to kill us both, make it look like an accident. Just like when he made it look like an accident when a chandelier almost fell on my head.” Her brow furrowed and her lips turned down. “Everyone believed him, so when he sentenced me to death, it was no question of him having any kind of motives. They would have done it.

“Either way, Anna needed Kristoff to keep going. _I_ needed her, and so did so many others. Because if we had died, we never would have found the Enchanted Forest. If we’d never found the forest…” Elsa raised her eyebrows, inclining her head slightly.

“If we’d never found the forest, there would be a tribe of people still stuck there.” Kristoff felt his eyes widen. “It wouldn’t have mattered if Kaija had visions about it, she wouldn’t have been able to get in.”

“And if she hadn’t been able to get in, she would still be alone. I know you try to be understanding,” Elsa continued, giving Kristoff a kind smile, “but you can’t understand me the way Kaija can, just as your parents can’t understand Kaija like I can. It’s a burden as much as a blessing, and it can only be understood fully by someone else who carries the same load. We’re not the same,” Elsa said, looking at Kaija now, “but we were both born with gifts that can masquerade as curses.”

Kristoff felt his head spinning, and he grasped the hand Elsa offered as she also took Kaija’s. “So you see?” Elsa grinned up at him, that smile that reminded him just how much happier she was now than she’d been ten years ago. “Kaija was right. It _had_ to be this way. For everyone to end up where they needed to be, for us to all finally, _finally_ be happy, it had to be this way.”

Kristoff thought he knew the answer, but he asked anyway. “How do you _know?”_

And as expected, she said simply, “Ahtohallan knows.”

Kaija found her voice again, and it was accusatory now. “You told me it was a mythical place.”

“Aren’t _we_ mythical? Fortune tellers and witches don’t have much of a place in this world. People don’t believe, and when they see it, they can’t understand it.” Elsa’s smile was warm as she continued, “You don’t have to be alone anymore, though. You can stop wandering, and you can stop _wondering,_ because the answer is what you’ve known it was all along. There are _no_ coincidences, not for people like you and me. Our world is controlled by fate. The fire was terrible. I know, I looked.” Elsa winced. “People died that night. It was a miracle your parents, or anyone for that matter, even survived. I know what you’ve heard for most of your life, and I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean you looked?” Kaija sounded as if she thought one of them had gone mad. “How did you see it? You’re a conjurer, not a seer.” 

“Oh, Elsa can climb into the depths of a glacier and look at the past.” Kristoff waved his free hand dismissively. “No big deal.”

Kaija blanched at him.

“Thanks.” Elsa rolled her eyes, and he grinned. “Kaija, as terrible as it was, it changed the trajectory of so many lives. But it had to happen that way. When I really started looking, I could see the sequence. One thing after the other after the other, like dominos. You have never felt at home anywhere you’ve been. You’ve never been unhappy or unloved, but you’ve never been _home._ You’ve never felt understood, not really.” Elsa gestured to the woods behind them. _“This_ is home. But to get here, for _all_ of us to get here, things had to happen the way they did. Everything’s connected, can you see?”

Then she was holding out her hands, palms flat to the sky as she smiled. “And _you’re_ connected,” Elsa continued, “the two of you. You always have been. Ever since you were a little girl,” she said, looking to Kaija, “you’ve seen a flashback of your brother running away. But you only saw it when he was thinking about it.” Kristoff remembered his first conversation with Kaija, the theory that had started forming in his head then about her flashbacks. “Something happened when you actually met him, once you realized he was alive. I can’t explain it, but that was why there was suddenly so much _more._ But you primarily saw the things that hurt him and caused him pain, _because_ you were connected. What hurts him hurts you. Most of those things happened before you were born, or before you had learned to see.”

“I don’t understand…” Kaija’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of Elsa’s words.

“Kristoff.” Elsa turned back to him now, eyes bright in the twilight. “How often did you think about your parents before you met Kaija?”

“Not very often.” He shrugged. “I tried not to.”

“And after?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “All the time. I couldn’t help it. I just kept thinking about my life, and how it had been.”

“And Kaija,” Elsa said, “you said the flashbacks were worse after. But think back, before that—what was the first thing you remember seeing?”

The question hung in the air, though they all knew the answer. The first thing she had seen was Kristoff. Elsa would have seen it, and Kaija had admitted it to him.

For a moment, Kaija was quiet. She stared at Elsa’s face for a long time, looking for something. Finally satisfied, Kaija shifted her hands so that she could pull Elsa and Kristoff back toward the woods, finally saying, “I think I’ve always known.” She shook her head as she walked. “I just didn’t _know.”_ A smile pulled at her lips and her eyes sparkled in the dim twilight “I guess I just had to find a witch.”

Elsa laughed, the sound brightening the darkness.

Back in the camp, most of the remaining Northuldra had retired, but Ryder was still awake, seated next to Rikkar and laughing about something, while Johánná and Anna sat, heads close together, whispering while the older woman showed Anna something on her _gákti._ At the sound of footsteps, the little group looked up, and Anna’s face split with a smile. 

_“There_ you are!” she exclaimed, giving Johánná a grin before rising to her feet. “This is my sister. I told you about her.”

From the corner of his eye, Kristoff could see Rikkar’s eyes narrow, just a little. It only lasted a second, because his wife and daughter each fixed him with uniquely severe looks. Kaija’s said she knew better and he knew it.

His mother’s… To be honest, he didn’t really want to know. It was the same look he would fix Anna with when she was being absurd, one that promised certain _withholdings_ if she didn’t come around.

It seemed to pass too quickly for his wife or her sister to notice. Anna was speaking animatedly. “Thank _goodness_ you’re here, where have you been? You missed everything!” Then she blinked at her husband. “What took so long?”

“I was just listening to your sister, honey,” he said, making sure the placation was very clear in his voice. “You’re always saying I should listen to Elsa, so—”

“Oh, nevermind.” But there was a fond smile on Anna’s face as she dragged her sister closer to the fire. “We have so much to tell you, you haven’t met Rikkar and Johánná, and we can’t introduce them to Olaf because Honeymaren said he wasn’t coming back to camp until _you_ said he could, and why did you tell him to leave, any—”

“Because he can’t keep a secret,” Elsa laughed. “Not unless it’s life and death, and even then I’m not sure how he’d do.”

“That’s true.” Anna blinked a few times, then looked up at him. “Are you tired?” Her voice promised a long night with the return of her sister.

“I mean, yeah. Been a long day.” Easing himself down next to her vacated spot, he shrugged. He knew he would fall asleep as soon as his head found a pillow, but Anna looked so hopeful. “I could stay awake, though.”

It was the last thing he remembered.

When his eyes opened, the camp was peaceful and empty, but for the pair of them. He was slumped, only somewhat uncomfortably, into Anna’s lap. Glancing around, he saw that she was propped up, chin resting in her hand, elbow braced carefully against his shoulder, eyes closed and breathing slow. The fire still burned, though it was lower now. They were the only ones who remained, and Kristoff realized he had fallen asleep as soon as Anna had sat back down and launched into another story.

Carefully, gently, he resitutead himself under his wife so that he was holding her softly while her blue eyes blinked slowly at him.

“Take us to Elsa’s,” she muttered. She pointed at the _lavvu_ next to theirs. “She’s sleeping with the kids. I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up before them, so she’s with them in case they wake in the night.” Anna was more awake now, and she offered him a sleepy smile. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I mean, I tried,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her, smiling, and got to his feet. “You were out _cold._ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep that hard, but your mother said you slept like that when you were a little boy.” A soft giggle followed before she added, “Your father said he would have carried you like he used to, but you’re too big for that now.”

He kissed her forehead softly as he shifted her in his arms, pulling aside the hide that kept out the chill he could feel, the spring warmth of the day fading with the sun. Considering her words, he couldn’t remember sleeping that well since he was little. He never had, after the fire. Waking to the sound of his mother’s screams had left a seemingly permanent mark, and finding her again had somehow erased it. “I didn’t have anything to be afraid of back then.”

“And now?”

“I still have things to be afraid of,” he shrugged, setting her carefully back down on her feet. “I have a wife who isn’t afraid to jump off cliffs and two children who seem like they’re not far off from trying their own luck.” She laughed softly. “But those things are normal.”

“What about Josefine?”

“I’d be scared,” he mused, “but we have Kaija. I’ve got a feeling she’ll always know the best way forward.”

They undressed quietly, without ceremony, like they had a thousand times before. He pulled on loose pants while she dressed in a simple cotton nightgown, and they found their way under the warm blankets, the smell of leather from the furs strong in the air around them. Arms wrapped around each other, Anna tugging lightly so that he was above her, hands quietly tracing over skin, running through loose hair.

Anna was like lifebreath to his lungs. He couldn’t ever remember a time when he felt so at ease, so happy, so complete. He had _thought_ he’d felt those things with Anna, with their children, but he realized now that there had always been a fray in the otherwise perfect tapestry of their lives. Even repaired, everything still seemed like some crazy dream, but the feeling of Anna’s lips pressing against his, warm and familiar and so very real, made him realize that everything was real.

Now that everything was real, now that they were tangible and in front of his eyes, he could remember a little more about them. There wasn’t much, but it was there, he knew. He vaguely recalled falling asleep in a similar position on his mother’s lap as a child, his father’s arms around him as he carried him inside. 

Five minutes before, he’d been asleep on the ground. Now, five minutes later, he was reminded that his wife wanted him. She had always made everything better, more bearable, but now, she reminded him that everything was real.

One of her legs was already wrapped around him, shifting her nightgown up, and it was easy to push it the rest of the way past her hips and up to her waist. His fingers made their way between her legs, finding her already prepared for him. He kept his lips sealed against hers as he reached down, untying and pushing the soft linen down past his knees before kicking it away completely.

Times like these were his favorite. The walls didn’t offer as much here to keep their normally boisterous sounds to themselves, so it was always a quiet, gentle lovemaking that happened here. They were slow and lazy in their motions, kissing deep and long as one of his hands trailed back down between them to the juncture of her thighs. 

Her eyes stayed locked on his as he slid slowly into her, both of them exhaling softly once he had bottomed out. Propping himself up on his elbows, he pulled back to thrust gently into her again. She gave a nearly inaudible sigh of satisfaction as he continued his slow motions over her, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and pull him down so his face was buried in her hair.

“I love you.” He almost missed her whispered words as the fire popped softly in the middle of the room. But he managed to catch them, to whisper them back in an exhale into her ear, loving how she shuddered when he did.

And he kept whispering, his words only audible to her as he breathed them into her. How beautiful she was. How amazing and brave she was, how he still couldn’t believe his luck. She’d giggled softly at that one, and he shushed her softly before continuing.

He whispered her praises, telling her how fucking _good_ she felt, all hot and wet and only for him, feeling her starting to slowly come undone.

“So beautiful,” he whispered again. “I love you so much, Anna.” Beneath him, her hips shifted a little more urgently against him. “That’s it, baby. You’re so close, Anna, aren’t you?” She nodded silently, desperately, and he chuckled soundlessly, caressing her lips softly with his thumb. “I know, honey, I can feel it.”

“I want to,” she whispered. Her fingers wrapped into his hair as she arched her back under him.

“Anna,” he hissed, also loving how her legs were tightening around his waist while she used the leverage to pull herself up into him. “Let go, Anna.” He didn’t need to see her face to know she heard him. The words kept tumbling out. “I’m so happy right now, baby.” Tears formed in the corner of his eyes, and he watched as they fell against her cheeks, mixing with her own. “I’m _so_ happy, and I just love you so much…” 

“God, I need you to come.” Her words were soft, but desperate. “Please, Kristoff, I need…”

Her words trailed off as he groaned, the sound buried in the pillow and her hair and he _knew_ what she meant. Speeding up, just a bit, he let himself go, finally feeling her release only seconds into his. She was tight against his chest, turning her head to find his lips with hers again, seeming to need to be completely immersed in him, in the dark quiet around them.

She whined a few minutes later when he rolled off to his side, pulling out of her, chuckling as she followed onto her own side, facing him. Her slender fingers, so much smaller and more delicate and yet just as strong as his own, raked through his hair. She smiled at him, the expression gentle and loving in the afterglow. “You _do_ need a haircut.” He hummed softly as her fingers played, twisting his lengthened blonde hair around them. “There’s barely been a minute to do it.”

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

Tomorrow.

Then sleep was creeping over the both, and they slept with that promise.


	10. Epilogue

Christmas was always beautiful in Arendelle. But the magic that had settled over the most recent ones was nothing like she could have ever imagined.

Anna sat on one of the fluffy couches in the family’s sitting room, beautifully decorated tree bursting with the gifts underneath. Rikkar was laughing, helping Josefine find the edges on one particularly challengingly wrapped gift, which Elsa’s wicked grin said was from her.

“Unwrapping is the fun part,” Elsa said, shrugging.

Anna giggled as she checked under the soft wrap draped around her shoulders. Hugo was fast asleep, his little mouth hanging open in a perfect circle, still moving as if he were trying to get more to eat. His brown eyes were closed, fluttering slightly almost like he was dreaming, dark hair a mess over the crown of his head. His tiny fists clenched and unclenched against her breast, and she carefully eased him out, handing him to his father.

“Here,” she murmured. Carefully, in a motion they’d practiced a thousand times before, Anna passed Hugo to Kristoff, who easily cradled the baby in the crook of one of his arms. Adjusting her dress to cover herself back up, Anna smiled over at the pair of them, recalling the Christmas before this one.

_The Bjorgmans had settled in the Enchanted Forest with the Northuldra permanently, and they were all there when Kaija married Ryder in the late summer. Kristoff and Rikkar had torn themselves away from the work they now did side by side to be there. Rikkar hadn’t forgotten a thing in the decades since he’d pulled his last block of ice from a mountain lake, and he still had the vitality of a man half his age. Kristoff often mused to her that he was amazed that his father was still as light on his feet as he was, but she had smiled and reminded him of Elsa’s words—everyone had magic in them, some more than others._

_So now, Kristoff had a helper in the form of the man who had given him memories of the magic of the ice._

_Johánná said he’d always been enterprising, that he had never fit in for it. Now, he spent half the summer on the mountain with his son and the other half home in the forest, often helping Kristoff find even more efficient ways to harvest and move what had become Arendelle’s largest export._

_But at least every few weeks, Rikkar came back down with Johánná, Kaija, and Ryder to see his grandchildren and daughter-in-law. They were there for birthdays, holidays, festivals and visits for the sake of simply spending time together._

_The empty home of Anna’s childhood was gone, filled now with friends and family, a near constant inflow of visitors and dignitaries, even the occasional rumble of a troll or two. Or three. Or ten._

_And now, Anna was getting the greatest gift she’d received in years._

_She had known since the harvest festival. Kristoff’s family and some of their northern friends had come down to celebrate with them, bringing their own bounties to share, and Anna had been grateful to see Kaija. The women had become fast friends, and they had embraced with smiles and laughter when they met in the village square. Kaija had grown still and quiet for a moment before pulling back, giving Anna a confused look._

_“Are you…” Kaija shook her head. “Never mind.”_

_“Am I what?”_

_Kaija had glanced over to where Kristoff stood, laughing as he lifted their mother off her feet, then leaned in to whisper, “I just saw something.” It wasn’t often that Kaija shared her visions unasked, and Anna hung on her every word. “I can’t see when, but it seems soon. But I saw you…” Another glance, double checking that it stayed their secret, and Anna adored her for it when she whispered, “I saw you with a child. A baby. I know you said you weren’t supposed to be able to, but I think they may have been wrong.” There was a little self satisfaction in Kaija’s voice, and she leaned back, smirking._ “They _aren’t fortune tellers.”_

_Anna had stayed still for a moment. Ever since Josefine’s traumatic birth, things had become irregular. Still, Anna had wondered why her cycle was taking so long. It could be over two months sometimes, but never three, the timeframe she was fast approaching._

_She’d written it off, ignoring the feelings of exhaustion that began to seep into her veins even this morning, supposing it was only the effects of being busy._

_The look of shock had seemed enough answer for Kaija, who had smilingly agreed to keep her sister’s secret, and Anna had kept it to herself a few weeks longer, waiting to see if it was true._

_Now, it was Christmas Eve. The party was over, everyone off to bed, and Anna sat perched on the end of the bed, waiting for her husband to reappear._

_The door opened, revealing Kristoff and an empty sack, and Anna smiled. For years, Kristoff and Elsa had squared off to see who was the better sneak, and when the children arrived, they combined forces every Christmas to sneak presents and stuff the stockings to delight Mikael and Josefine. This year was no different, and he tossed the sack off to the side before toeing off his slippers._

_“Sorry it took so long,” he said, smiling apologetically as she began to work her hair into a braid. There was no denying it was thicker now. She hadn’t had any sickness, so hiding so many weeks wasn’t all that difficult. Her midsection was starting to thicken, as well, but she had made it past the earliest stages, and the midwife had been pleased to inform her that there was nothing of concern so far, and to expect their happy little miracle sometime around Midsummer. But she was supposed to take it easy, starting after the new year._

_“That’s okay.” She returned his smile, feeling her heart pick up its pace as she tied off her braid while he tossed aside his robe. She watched as he moved around the room, banking the fire, blowing out most of the candles, except for the one he used to cross to the bed. “Did you get everything done?”_

_“We almost got caught by Mika.” Kristoff shook his head as he pulled aside the blankets, climbing into the bed so that his feet rested next to where she sat. “Olaf distracted him, though.” Reaching back, he propped himself up with pillows as she climbed down to put her brush back on her dressing table. “You said you have a surprise for me.” He was grinning, the sparkle in his eyes making Anna laugh to herself as she realized he was anticipating the sudden disappearance of her nightgown._

_Maybe._

_Reaching into a drawer, Anna pulled out a little box wrapped in purple paper with green ribbon, smiling at the confused expression on her husband’s face as she climbed back into bed._

_“I can wait until tomorrow, honey.” Kristoff rolled his eyes, but it was a fond expression. “I’m not the kids.”_

_“No, it really should be opened now.” She grinned. “Unless you want to find out at the same time as everybody else, which would be okay, but you deserve to know first.”_

_“Because that’s not cryptic, at all.” But he took the little box, pulling aside the ribbon and then the paper._

_Ryder had made the box—Kaija had refused to tell him why—and decorated it with stars and swirls and little Christmas goats. It was beautifully crafted, and Kristoff smiled._

_“It’s nice, honey.” Slow on the uptick, Kristoff gave her a confused look. “But I don’t understand—”_

_“Sweetheart, when have I ever given you an empty box?”_

_“Never, I guess, now that I think about it.” He laughed again, shaking his head, and lifted the lid._

_His face froze, and for a few long minutes, she watched him, unable to read his expression, a feeling of unexpected nervousness coming over her._

_She was overjoyed. She could feel in her bones—knew from Kaija’s visions of a dark haired, brown eyed baby—that this would all be fine. But Kristoff didn’t know that, and what if he wasn't happy?_

_He finally opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He was pointing down into the box now, eyes moving comically back and forth from his wife to its contents and back again. “Did—” He lifted one of the tiny, light green booties between his thick fingers. “Is this— Are you—”_

_“Kaija saw it,” Anna whispered, reaching for his free hand and squeezing it in hers. “At the harvest festival. I wanted to wait to be sure, and the midwife says everything looks fine, nothing off like last time, I just need to work a little less starting after the holidays and she wants to keep an eye on things, but—”_

“Anna,” _he whispered, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her tight, the hand with the box now coming to rest on her back. Then he was whispering her name over and over while he peppered her now beaming face with kisses, making her giggle when he finally made his way to her belly._

_Then he frowned._

_“How did I not notice_ that?” _His fingers were tracing over the small bump of her belly, and her eyes widened._

_“Well, I just noticed it myself,” she said, laughing. “Are you happy?” It seemed obvious, but she needed to hear it._

_His face looked as boyish as it had when she’d met him so many years before. It wore the same goofy, almost dazed smile, the same wide eyes, but even more warmth._

_“I’m so happy, I feel like I’m going to explode.”_

_And she was in his arms then, the little wooden box set carefully on his bedside table as she climbed on top of him, her nightgown being tossed aside, after all._

Anna came back to the present to the sound of Mikael’s voice, hushed in an effort not to wake Hugo. “Did I used to sleep that much?”

“You slept all the time, buddy.” Kristoff reached out to tousle the blonde mop that was their son’s hair. “I was your favorite pillow, just like your brother.”

“Were you _my_ favorite pillow, Papa?” Josefine was creeping up between Kristoff and Anna, and Anna grinned at the pair of them peering over Kristoff’s arms to stare at their baby brother.

“I’m everyone’s favorite pillow.” He grinned toward his wife. “Your mama fell asleep on my legs once.”

“I’m not the one that can fall asleep anywhere,” Anna defended herself. “I _need_ a pillow, and you’re very comfortable.”

“Is that why you sleep on top of Papa when we visit Aunt Elsa? So you don’t have to sleep on the ground?” Josefine sounded curious.

Elsa snorted hot chocolate, Rikkar hid his laughter in a pillow, and Johánná his hers in his shoulder. Ryder snorted awake from his place on the floor at his wife’s feet, and Kaija’s brown eyes drifted slowly open.

“Yes, sweetie,” Anna was saying blythely while Ryder and Kaija looked on at the laughter with confusion. “But I have special Mama rights, so I’m the only one that gets to do that.”

  
“Oh.” Fortunately, she was too distracted by staring at her younger brother to stay on the subject. “How come he’s still so small?”

“It takes a long time to grow as big and strong as you and your brother,” Kristoff reminded her, probably for close to the thousandth time, but with the patience of someone who had never explained it prior.

“So, when do we get cousins?” 

Anna could see Kaija stretching on the sofa opposite them, wincing as she rubbed her back, her belly rounded with pregnancy. “Soon, dearest,” Kaija said. “We’ll bring him or her down when we can, I promise.” By her own estimations and those of Yelena, Kaija still had several weeks to go, and this would be her last trip down the mountain for some time. She would return to the woods tomorrow, and not be back until likely late spring or summer, and Anna was resolved to visit before then. Kaija sighed, gazing longingly over at Hugo, then fixed Anna with a scowl. “I don’t think you put enough of an emphasis on the level of discomfort.” 

Ryder peeled himself off the floor, and Anna knew he was now in the same phase her husband had been at this stage in her pregnancies. This was the true beginning of the sleeplessness, the waking of one’s husband with the inability to retain any sort of fluids or to easily find any sort of physical comfort. But he smiled brightly at his wife, even when she frowned up at him. “What do you need?”

Kaija cast her eyes around before landing on an end pillow. “That. I need that, and the one over there.” Ryder fetched her pillows, helped her wedge them around herself, then surrendered his shoulder for use propping up her feet. He looked so exhausted already, but so blissfully happy. Kaija sighed with relief. “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes drifting closed again.

“Any time. You’re the one with the difficult job.” He grinned up at her, and Anna was grateful, not for the first time, that they had each other. She watched as, almost absentmindedly, he reached up to rub at one of Kaija's swollen feet.

“I’m not sure how many more times I can do this.” Kaija’s voice was a little slurred with fatigue.

“You’re gonna have five babies, and they’re all gonna be boys,” Josefine said matter of factly, and seven sets of eyes stared. Mikael kept staring at his brother, unperturbed, probably having heard it before. “I had a dream about it. You had five boys, and you were laughing because they were all chasing each other and they fell in the water and got _soaked!”_ Josefine lifted her little nose regally into the air. “I told them that was gonna happen, but they didn’t listen!”

It was quiet for a moment, then Kaija groaned, her head falling back against the back of the couch. “Wonderful. Thank you for the warning, Jojo. Better than your mother gave.” Kaija glared again.

“Hey, I never said it was easy.” Anna shrugged, gesturing to Hugo. “It’s worth it, though. If you’d asked me _while_ I was pregnant instead of after, it would have been an entirely different response.”

“What would your pregnant response have been?”

Kristoff chuckled. “‘I don’t care how magical it is,’” he quoted, raising his voice in a fair imitation of Anna, “‘I want it out _now!’”_

Anna smiled. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“To be fair, you hadn’t slept the night before.”

“To be fair.” Anna smiled, reaching out to play with the messy hair on the head of her snoozing youngest. Then she raised her eyebrows. “All boys, huh?”

Josefine looked uninterested now. “Yep.” She climbed back down on the floor, trotting over to the pile of presents that remained and starting in again, Mikael joining her as they abandoned the baby, who was never quite as interesting as when he was awake, they always seemed to decide.

“Five boys,” groaned Kaija. “No daughters?”

“Nope.” 

“You’re sure?”

At this, Josefine looked at Kaija with a gaze that showed the old soul that inhabited the little girl. She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen girls, just boys.” She pouted. “I’m the only girl.”

Rikkar leaned up, whispering something in her ear, and Anna watched the satisfied smile cross Josefine’s face. “But don’t tell them that,” Rikkar said, his voice very serious as he winked.

“I won’t, _áddjá_ ,” she said, and her face became serious again. “I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

Not for the first time, Anna wondered at what else Josefine knew. 

She supposed they would find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done! Thanks to all who read, reviewed, left kudos. It's appreciated.


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